Because of Gabby , Because of Me Part 1 of 3

In this powerful episode, Tiffany opens her heart to share why the legacy of Gabby Petito is the reason she stands in this space today. Through Gabby’s story, we are reminded of the urgent need to raise awareness about domestic violence and to honor the lives impacted by it. This episode is not only about tragedy—it is about hope, healing, and resilience. Tiffany reflects on her own journey, weaving together survivor voices, lessons learned, and the importance of community support. Listeners are invited to walk alongside her as she explores:• 🌸 The lasting impact of Gabby Petito’s story on advocacy and awareness.• 💜 The realities of domestic violence and the importance of breaking the silence.• 🌈 Pathways to healing, empowerment, and reclaiming strength.• ✨ A message of resilience—reminding survivors that their stories matter, and their voices can spark change. This episode is a tribute, a call to action, and a beacon of hope. It reminds us that even in the darkest moments, there is light, and together we can build a future rooted in compassion, safety, and resilience.

Transcript

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Hey guys, welcome back to True Crime with Tiff Klein. I'm your host, Tiff Klein, and I'm giving criminals the disrespect they deserve. This is episode 12, and it's gonna be a three-part series. And this one's long overdue, but this one has been near and dear to my heart. This one has been the inspiration of a podcast, but this one has changed my life. So I wanted to call it because I like Gabby. Now, if you follow the Gabby Petito case, you would know that Gabby Petito was taken by domestic violence, and her parents started the Gabby Petito Foundation, where they're out there raising funds and training first responders and visiting schools and doing seminars to teach about the signs of domestic violence. They have been flooded with emails and messages and social media posts and hugs and conversations saying that because of Gabby, they survived. Because of Gabby, they left a toxic relationship. Because of Gabby, I think they're here today to tell their story. Like me, I'm here, I have a voice, and my mission is to help people as much as I can. And if it saves one person, then that is the goal. So um I took some time to write this one out. I didn't want to wing it. So this episode will be episode 12, and it will be done in three parts. So bear with me that there is some time jumps because when you endure trauma, things become a blur, and sometimes your timelines don't match up. And that's just your brain's way of protecting itself. And um, I hope you take something from this. This is very emotional for me. This was very needed, very much needed. Although I've spoken to people about my story and I did an interview with Nikki Schmidt, Gabby Petito's mom about it. I never really put it in detail what I've been through. And it's hard to give people that insight without feeling ashamed, embarrassed, or judged. But I'm I'm past that because it happens and it wasn't my fault, and I'm still here. So without further ado, I'm going to start episode 12. And again, this one is long overdue. I didn't want to rush it because I hold this one near and dear to my heart. I hold Gabby near and dear to my heart because, well, I've grown, I've survived, I have found strength, I have found love, resilience, and like millions of other women and men, I was Gabby. Now, obviously, we were two different people, but we were the same, and I'll tell you why. Fine. I made some life choices that I didn't at the time would know that it would forever change my life. It would forever change me, it would forever change my brain chemistry and how I existed in this world, and it forever changed my perception on men and love. I met one of my exes online on March 10th, 2009, on the app called Are You Interested, which was basically the Facebook's Tinder of the early millennium. I swiped left and I saw him. Someone from the hometown where my grandfather was born and raised. Someone who went to high school with some of my cousins. Someone who lived near where I grew up. But the ironic thing is I moved to a different state 10 years prior. It's funny how the world works. It's funny how one decision can forever alter your life in the blink of an eye. So, how was my story like Gabby's? I'll tell you. I was 20 going on 21, and I met this man online that gave me all the attention I ever wanted. 600 miles away. Endless phone calls and a lot of AOL messages, staying up all night while he worked on the road, and I was at college, and we would talk every night until I fell asleep. We talked for two months and it was a rush. I had to meet him. So I traveled to Pennsylvania with a friend. We ventured out to spend three days with him and his family. So at the time, what I thought at the time was a man sweeping me off my feet. But in reality, it was his way of love bombing me, giving me highs, making me feel on top of the world. It was a whirlwind of emotions and adrenaline, not to mention the dopamine hits. When I had to go back home, I cried the whole 12 hours. I got back and I couldn't stand it. We kept talking, and before I knew it, he came out to visit me in Ohio for a week or two. Now again, some of my timeline might jump around because of trauma and I can't really remember everything. But this was May of 2009 when he came out. It was Mother's Day. He asked me to move back to Pennsylvania with him. I was from a small town in the very bottom of Ohio. And at the time, I would have told you I left because I found the love of my life. And I wasn't gonna let my fairy tale go. If you ask me now, 17 years later, I'll tell you it was my ticket out of a small town. But I was love bombed, brainwashed, whisked away on love, leaving my entire support system, my family, my friends, and even college. I had a bright future ahead of me. I always had a good head on my shoulders, and I wasn't easily manipulated or taken advantage of. I had a backbone, and a lot of people, including men, were intimidated by it. I was taken advantage of because I have a good heart and I'm an empath. The next morning, without thinking twice, I packed what I could in a tote and left everything behind. I didn't think twice. And that was the problem. I didn't think. I hurt my family doing this, and although at the time I was 20 trying to show them I was in control of my own life, I have a lot of regrets that followed. I was the only girl of five kids. My mother got pregnant in high school, so she raised me to be independent and not to rely on any man. She protected me at all costs and didn't let me run around, go to parties, go and have boyfriends. Even though I did sneak out and I did end up at a lot of parties. And um, I ratted on myself because my mom always said, if I find out what you're doing from other people, your punishment's gonna be worse. So I would just run home and tell her everything I did. And that's why today I can't tell a lie. I will be an open book and I will tell you everything I I am because I don't like keeping things from people. But I'm learning to reign back on that. My mom didn't want me to be held back in life. I felt like an animal in a cage. Now imagine being 17, 16, 15, and all your friends are out partying, having fun, having boyfriends, and you're just grounded all the time because, well, you run your mouth and you deserved it. But the chains were so suffocating, and I just wanted to break free and live my life. At the time, I thought my parents just couldn't let go of control. But looking back, I realized they were trying to protect me, maybe not in the ways they should have, but in the only ways they knew how. So when I left, my mom wouldn't let my brothers talk to me for six months. My stepdad included. I guess she thought because if I had no contact and she took away my brothers, I would come running back home. But no, it actually did the opposite. It made me mad, it made me infuriated, it made me angry, and I didn't go back. And I'm still here 17 years later. I think it went back once, maybe twice, but I live 600 miles away for my own reasons. Now, at this point, you're probably like, Tiff, how is this like Gabby's story? Like Gabby, I was in my 20s. I moved to another state with my boyfriend and his parents, and I had no car because it previously got rear-ended in Kentucky. I had no friends, no money, no job, no life, no car, but I was free. At least that's what I thought. But was I? Was I really free? Or was I walking into a trauma bond, a life of post-traumatic stress disorders, depression, anxiety, abuse, and being controlled even more. Yes. Yes, to all of those things. Months went by. We got our first little apartment in Scranton. It was a shithole, but I was proud of my first apartment. Then one day out of nowhere, we were watching movies and something happened when I went into the bedroom and he hit me with a mirror over my head. I remember crying, calling my dad, and my mom was in the background, yelling something. Now, again, this was 2009, but I remember crying and just calming down and telling them I was okay, I was just homesick, and I'm fine. So I get off the phone and he apologizes. I don't even remember what he like why he did that to me. I have no recollection of what led up to that. I just remember watching movies, and the next thing I know, I'm on the floor. So of course, you know, over nine years, things are a blur, and I fell for the pity party for the first time. And it was a woe is me bullshit story, and I accepted his apology, and he made me breakfast, and the next day was supposed to be all good. That's it. Everything would just go back to normal, the way it was, right? It was okay. It wouldn't happen again. No way would he hurt me again. Until it did, until he did, again and again and again and again and again and again for nine years. The next time, I don't know what I said or did again. It's a blur. The next thing, I set him off, but he took a computer desk or maybe a plastic dresser, you know, with the drawers that you you can put small things in. I wanna say a computer desk, but he threw it on top of me while I was on the floor crying, because I don't know, I I don't remember, and it split my head open, and I had to go to the emergency room. I had a concussion, and he drove me to the emergency room himself. But he didn't go in. I remember the nurses asking me what happened, and I said I had slipped in the shower and busted my head on the spigot. It made sense to me. It was believable to me. At least that's what I thought. And then the next thing I knew, a cop came in and asked me questions. Another nurse asked me if I was safe at home, and I lied and said yes. So they took my words for granted, wrote it down in their notes, and exited the room. Once again, I got the I'm sorries, the breakfasts. This time I got flowers, the empty apology, and that he would never do it again. After all, he was the one with the issues and the bad childhood and the woe is me and how rotten and terrible he had it growing up. At least that were the excuses he gave me. And I guess in a way it was his own way of justifying what he did to me. And like the empath I am, I allowed it and reminded myself it won't happen again. But it did again and again and again. I was that girl that grew up and said, that'll never happen to me. I'll be damned if I ever let a man talk down to me, control me, abuse me. Yet it happened. I could sit here and tell you stories for years, but I can't remember it all. My brain has blocked out so much to protect me, so it all comes to me in bits and pieces. So this is where the timeline isn't going to match up. I apologize in advance. I'm just going to explain the things he put me through over a nine-year window. Stay with me. I promise this will all come full circle. Over the years, I suffered from many black eyes, a chipped tooth, a dislocated shoulder, bruised fingers. I was dragged across the house by my hair at least a hundred times. One time I was told to come home at that exact moment from work because I put the toothpaste in the wrong spot. And if I didn't come home when he told me to in that instant, that I would regret it later. So I left on my shift and I never went back to that job. And when I walked in, he just sat there with his arms crossed, pleased that he had that much power over me. There was a time where I had my belongings smashed multiple times. I had clothes cut up. I had furniture and endless computers smashed and broken, tablets and phones broken. And there was a time we went to Walmart and he locked me in the car with him in it for 12 hours, like an interrogation. Ask me how I was going to change to make his life better and come up with a solution. It was so cold. He drove there to get a new PlayStation, and I may have bitched that I was, I just wish he would do more than play that stupid game Call of Duty or some shit. I'm sure I had an attitude. I mean, how could you not living with somebody that abused you? I don't really remember. I'm glad that I don't. Another time we went to Walmart and he pissed me off. Now, remember the footage that we had seen of Gabby and her dirtbag boyfriend she was with in the store and how her arms were crossed and you could tell something was off. This was the last video footage of Gabby Petito on August 27th, 2021. This was me. All the time I walked in the store with my arms crossed. I walked 10 feet behind him because either I was embarrassed to be with him or I was too scared to walk next to him, or I was told to walk behind him. My eyes were always puffy. I was always scared. This was me. Looking back, I have no idea on how I lived. I don't know how I kept the job. I don't know how I went to college and graduated with honors all at the same time after the shit he put me through. But I'm sure that I did it out of spite. I was gonna prove a point to him and everybody else that nothing and no one was gonna hold me back or break me. I learned how to lie. I learned how to make up excuses on where my bruises came from, or why I'd be late at work, in a sweat, just got done fighting or being dragged across the house by my hair and having to clock into a 12 to 14 hour shift and then be up early the next morning for classes. And the worse he got, the harder I worked at showing him he wasn't going to break me. I don't know what went on between Gabby and the scumbag she was with throughout the entirety of their relationship. She knows and he knows. Only the public knows what we've learned and what her parents have shared with us and what her mom Nikki has shared with me privately. But I guarantee a lot of this was happening, and she knew how to live and lie and hide things like everything was fine, made excuses for him, felt bad for him, and lost herself in many ways and seemed like she wanted to prove a point and to prove to him she will be what she wanted to be. She was determined and she was going to be a famous vlogger. No matter what he said, no matter what he did, that's what she was going to do. Me too, Gabby. Me too. She went through a lot leading up to that day. He took her from this world, and it wasn't on a whim. Out of nowhere, it was not on a whim. That I promise you, I guarantee you a thousand to a million percent that more happened over the years, and I wish I could sit her down and hug her. More things I remember are him smashing my windshields multiple times, just because he was pissed off, or he would slice my tires. A few times he locked me out in the snow in the middle of the night and I had to sleep in my car because he would take my wallet, my phone, my keys to the house, and keys to my car. Another time I had to sleep in the garage more than once. And if I tried to come in, hell would break loose. The neighbors would hear me screaming, things breaking, but no one ever did anything. And I wish they did. People always say they don't want to get involved. And then the worst happens. There was a time I caught him cheating, and he broke my glove box door off, broke my key off in the ignition, and punched me so hard in the face my nose bled everywhere inside my car. Then four hours later, didn't want to discuss it and wanted to go on with the night like nothing had happened. And when I expressed how I felt, shit got out of hand again. I wanted to go to sleep and I wasn't allowed to. There was a time where he went to Walmart and we went grocery shopping. He left me in the parking lot with all of our groceries and told me to find my own way home. I had to get a taxi or maybe a friend picked me up. I don't remember, but I remembered taking the groceries home. The interrogation was the worst. I'd wake up and his eyes would be a certain way or a certain color, and I knew I was in for it that day. He'd keep me in the bedroom for nine to 12 hours, asking me how I'm gonna fix this relationship and make his life better. What I'd change and do differently to rectify the problem, which to this day I still don't know what the fuck I was supposed to fix because I know I didn't do anything wrong. He just wanted his ego fed and he wanted to take his rage out and his own shit on someone so he could have power. I remember a time I was pregnant. And this isn't something I share with many, but I did have an abortion at six weeks. He forced me to come off birth control, and I never wanted kids ever since I was eight years old. He trapped me, but I had a friend drive me to New York, and I did what I had to do. I don't give a shit what anybody thinks. Some say, well, you could have put it up for adoption. Yeah. Yeah, because he'd allow that, you know, breaking everything, punching me in the face, putting me in fear. Yeah, I I I could just have put my kid up for adoption. Because it was that easy. He wanted a kid to homeschool and brainwash with his vegan hippie life off the grid bullshit. And he would have taken that kid and either abused them or fucked them up for life. I would have been taking him to court for custody, and he would kill me before that would have happened, or he would have kidnapped my kid and I would have never seen them again. There was no way out, and I was not about to raise a kid with an abusive psychopath. Remember how I told you my mom was protective? Well, she was abused by my biological dad for 15 years, and so was my older brother for 12 of those years. My mom finally left and gave us a better, safer life. I don't remember a lot of that either, but I do remember the bullshit she went through to keep us safe. And I do remember them fighting a lot, but I don't remember what about. Nor do I care because it doesn't serve my life at this time at 37 years old, and it won't make a damn a difference the damage was done. Now, here I am trying to escape someone, just like my mom had to. But I made the decision I had to do, and I made my peace with it and with God. And I have no regrets, none. This happened not once, but twice in a year. The second time he took me. See, when we fought, the only way to shut him up and make him stop abusing me or screaming at me or interrogating with me was to just have sex. So I used it as power. And if he found out I was on breath control again, I guarantee you I would have been beaten for it. So judge me, call me a sinner, say whatever the fuck you want. I don't care because you did not walk in my shoes. But I do remember the second time he took me and wouldn't even help me recover. And then he started a fight the next day that I killed his seed, and I'm a rotten, horrible person. And he wants a kid to raise his way and then said if I got pregnant, he'd make me give birth in nature without any doctors and live off the grid in a van traveling. And I had enough. I went to the doctor secretly. I got on birth control and I kept it at work in a spot he would never find it. In the days I'd have off, I would take these and put them in a little candy box. He was not going to trap me. I was not raising a kid with a psychopath. Me and the kid would have had our lives taken at some point. He was the type that would set the house on fire with all of us in it, including himself, just to have control. So before you call me a sinner, imagine what living your life with someone like that. I didn't have any other option. It was my life, my kid's life, or both of our lives. And I chose me because without me, my kid would not have had a good life. So in my head, I did the best possible decision I had to for myself and my child. And I looked at the alternative as this is what I'm going to do because it's going to be better than the outcome. Now, other times, he once left me in a cemetery in the middle of nowhere in the middle of night and took off around the corner to meet a girl he was cheating on me with. And when we went on a walk right before that, I had no idea where I was. I had no idea what cemetery my car was parked in, where I was, or anything. And I walked and walked until I found a bar in Wilkesbare. I described the fence and the gate, and someone knew I was talking about St. Mary's, and they got me there. I went home and he was at a side piece's house for a few days. He did this and he would disappear for days at a time for a girl that looked like SpongeBob and who was vegan and just had no respect for me. And I caught her at my house one time when I was on a cruise, and I told her when I got home I was gonna beat the shit out of her. And if I ever catch her on my property again, it's game over. Of course, I got in trouble for that. I was the one that got abused for sticking up from to myself. So he would disappear for days at a time and block me on everything so I couldn't bother him and her, then come home and not want to deal with the accountability. If I tried, I'd regret it. I came home from work one time and he managed to get a moving truck and emptied our entire house except for my clothes. I shit you not, without any explanation. And I slept on a cold linoleum floor, crying myself to sleep, only for him to just move everything back in the next day. I was dealing with a psychopath. So the fucker unloaded the entire house because he was a mover. There was nothing left in that house except my clothes. And then the next morning just moved it all back in. This was what I was dealing with. I promise you, I promise you, this will lead up to why I relate to Gabby. I have to give you the backstory for it all to make sense. Now, again, this happened over nine years, and there's a lot that happened to me. And I don't remember it all. And even with therapy and reflecting, I can't remember most of it, and that's trauma. Another time, I didn't put the sponge back where it belonged, and I got hit upside the head for it, standing at the sink. Another time he ripped up my college degree and I had to call my college, pay for a new one for them to replace it. Another time he broke things that my grandmother had given me before she passed. I was so broken. No self-respect, no self-esteem, and I was hollow shell. I just existed. As the years went on, he became a vegan and he wanted to travel the world in a van, but he couldn't buy one himself. And I came home one day and our TV was gone and our game consoles and computers were gone. And he said he sold them so we didn't sit home anymore because he wanted us out hiking, building a homestead, and losing weight. He'd jumped from one life plan to another, and it would change on a whim. And because he was vegan, there weren't any meat or dairy in my house. And if he found out I ate an animal product, I'd be called foul names, abused, and beaten. So it got to a point where I couldn't even eat what I wanted to. So I didn't eat out of spite. I just stopped eating altogether. And I would binge eat when I was alone, or I would woof down the greasiest, fattiest foods I could when I was alone. I was malnourished, my eyes looked sunken in, and my coal collarbones stuck out. Not eating was the last thing that I had control over in my life. Now, I'm sure you're asking the most ignorant question anyone could ever ask someone. Why didn't you just leave? Well, for once, I was in fear of my life. He controlled my money, my work, my schedule, my work schedule, what I wore, what I could eat. I never had a savings because I was always replacing the things that he broke. He'd cry for hours and scream and would always be about how shitty he had it growing up, blaming his parents for everything in return, and I had to pay for it. They knew he abused me and they looked the other way. They too were afraid of him. They'd slip me money here and there, and they'd make excuses and say he's been like this since he was a kid. And there was a time his dad heard him hitting me and stayed in his room so he didn't get involved. And that was the night I was strangled. And I blacked out because he saw something on my computer that set him off. Because at this point, I wasn't staying there all the time, but I would stop in to get my mail and I had my laptop and I had been spending time getting to know somebody and he didn't like that. So, you know, he could go out over the years and cheat on me and abuse me and lie, but the second I started moving on in my life, I got strangled for it. Which led to me protecting this other guy and started a long trauma bond with that one, but that'll be for episode two. Towards the end, there was a time that he wanted to get a van, like I said, and he couldn't afford one because he had no credit established, because he thought it's all an illusion and it doesn't matter and you don't need that to survive in life. But when it came push to shove and he wanted a van and he didn't have a credit score, he thought I would sign. Towards the end, like I said, he couldn't afford one. He had no credit, but I did. We took a test drive, because I had no choice. And when it came to him wanting it, I told him I wasn't co-signing shit or putting it in my name. I didn't care what he did to me. I was done and I was making an escape plan, and it was a matter of time before I was gone. It was get killed or hope it wouldn't get that far, but I refused to let him have any more control over me. So what happened? When he got home, he threw all my shit on the lawn and I found him cheating again weeks prior. I confronted him and he just turned around and punched me right in the face and broke my nose. I gave more excuses. I lied to the doctors and my friends and my family until I had surgery to have my gallbladder removed. He was nowhere to be found. Five days later, he finally showed up the morning of because I told him if he didn't, I was leaving to go to Ohio as soon as I was done with surgery. And my mom had flown in through a snowstorm, which his dad went to get her and brought her to the hospital. So his mom told my mom how my nose actually got broken. So I'm still in the hospital for a few days because I had some complications. I finally get home and he wanted to go out and watch a football game at a restaurant in Dixon City. And I had just had abdominal surgery. I was in the hospital for seven days and I needed to rest, but he didn't care. So we all went out because again, it was either go and shut up and not deal with them. And my mom was there, so I didn't want anything happening, or regret it later. We all went, and when I got back, he wanted to make his kimchi or juice or whatever the fuck his half-assed business was and wanted my help. And I said, no, I needed to rest. And boy, did shit hit the fan. And my mom got into it. She packed my car and we drove to Ohio that day. I went home for a month. I was finally safe. But I went back a month later. Why? Because I was trauma bonded. I missed living in the city. He promised he'd change and my dumbass felt for it again. Little did he know, I had already become been talking to somebody else. And I found a woman to live with off Craigslist. I wanted to come back to Pennsylvania because this was my home for a decade. I came back on March 9th, 2018. I made a choice on March 10th, 2018, to change my life when I was in a building full of people, and he showed up with his whore. And I was talking to the guy at the time that I was kind of getting to know. And my ex's whore came up to me laughing in my face, basically like, haha, I went. And I was like, fine, have him. Enjoy getting punched in the face and dragged across the house. And apparently I screamed, I blacked out. I don't remember what I like what I said, but I remember in that moment I took my power back and I never went back. I thought the new person I had met was sent to me from God. I thought, finally, I had met someone good, or so I thought. No, no, I met a monster. Someone who never hit me, but did more damage with mental, emotional, and verbal abuse, which to me is worse than physical in most ways. If you're a survivor, you'll understand. But before we end this episode and go to episode 13, the second part, here are what Gabby and I had in common. I met someone and it moved very quickly. I moved away to another state with my support system friends, family, and college. I was isolated and alone. I didn't listen to my parents, but they couldn't stop me. I was an adult. I felt bad for my abuser. I walked in eggshells, I was manipulated, love bombed, abused, strangled, and he wanted to travel the world living in a van to live off the grid. Sound familiar? I was a social media manager and he held me back. Told me I'd never become anything, and tried to ruin any restaurant I worked for, leaving rotten reviews on their page because they served animals and I was determined to be someone. Sound familiar? I was also a food photographer and he held me back. People wouldn't hire me because of him and how he would leave reviews on their pages to sabotage me. Once I left him, I won three awards, had so much work I couldn't keep up, had to go turn clients away, ran social media for six restaurants at one time, threw a food festival, was on the news twice, in the newspapers four times, and everyone knew who I was. Later, it led me to my career of the past seven years in advertising for media. If I knew the signs then like I do now, I wouldn't have walked into this web. If I would have left the first time he made me cry or disrespected me, I could have saved myself. I could have saved myself nine years of trauma and a lifetime of post-traumatic stress. I could have saved money on trauma and therapy. And now I compromised my immune system because of all the mental and emotional shit I have been through. Not to mention the physical stress I went through. Living in fight or flight for almost a decade will catch up to you. I am now 37. It is 2025, and I feel every ounce of the abuse I went through. I am now autoimmune. My body now reacts to stress in many weird ways. I could be fine and then have a fever from stress. My lymph nodes swell, my body hurts, and it's I go out maybe once a month and I regret it for four days because I have chronic fatigue and it just makes my immune system crash. I can't tell you all the times I'd call the cops or someone else would, and they would show up. And because both of our names were on the lease, I could not have him evicted. I was so ashamed I felt like a failure. I wouldn't go home and I was a failure. I was a failure because I failed myself for staying in that situation. But I was in fear. The most dangerous time for a victim is to leave at the end. And they go back seven to eight times before they actually get to leave if they get out. In this next episode, I will go into how the next six years of my life went with someone else. A monster in disguise, pure evil, and he never even had to use his hands. Am I broke into these men? No. Am I worthless? No. Am I ashamed? No. Am I not able to be loved? No. Can I not have a healthy relationship with a man? Yes, I can. But I gotta find a man first. Stay tuned for part two. This is where Gabby really helped me heal. Because of Gabby, I started speaking. I started healing. I started telling my story from the first abusive relationship I had. But because of Gabby, I left the last one a lot earlier than the one before him. Because of Gabby, I am able to tell you my story. So stay tuned for episode two. And I want you to know there are resources out there. If you head to the GabbyPetitoFoundation.org, there are resources on their website. I'm on it right now. The home page, you will see something that pops up that says, While we don't provide direct services or legal representation, we have gathered helpful legal and advocacy resources below. The National Domestic Violence Hotline offers free confidential assistance. You can call 1-800-799-Safe or text the word start S-T-A-R-T to the number 88788. And you could also chat with them live at thehotline.org. Gabby Petito's story has helped many recognize abuse in their own lives or those loved of loved ones. We know that this can be triggering, so we encourage you to navigate this realization with care and the right resources. Below you'll find the support to help guide your next steps. Many domestic violence homicides are predictable, and if they are predictable, they are preventable. That is from Kelly Dunn, the executive director at Geiger Institute. Now, if you go on the GabbyPetitoFoundation.org, there is a safety planning, there's ways to find help. They have a lot of different phone numbers, safety planning, how to support victims, national domestic violence hotline, national center for victims of crime, the rain, which is this national sexual assault hotline, domestic shelters.org, international resources. There's an alliance. There is events that they're doing. You can get involved and be a volunteer like me. I volunteer for the foundation. I sponsored and volunteered at their fundraiser back in June, and I plan on being there again this July. I am an advocate. I am a voice. I am someone who lived it and got out alive. And again, if you are in need and you need help, please do not hesitate to reach out to the National Domestic Violence Hotline. It's free, it's confidential. It's 1-800-799-SAFE. Or you can text the word start at S T A R T to the number 88788, or you can chat at thehotline.org. There's also many different resources on their website. Please stay safe. And I will tune you in episode 13 on the second part of this podcast. Until then, this is a true crime with Tiff Klein giving criminals the disrespect that they deserve.