How old is blagojevich kids

Weather Traffic Local News U. Station Info. Follow Us:. Share Tweet Email. By Diane Pathieu. Share: Share Tweet Email. After her father was resentenced in August to 14 years behind bars for public corruption offenses by U. District Judge James Zagel , she motioned across the court at the judge and, in a memorable outburst, told onlookers, "He stole my childhood! In her open letter to Obama, she acknowledged, "I am shocked at how bitter and full of hate I have become," before concluding, "I truly thought you were a good person.

I guess I was just as brainwashed as everyone else. At least now I can see the blood on your hands. Twitter kimjnews. Skip to content. Tell us what you really think, Amy! My daughters are without their dad. For access to all our exclusive celebrity videos and interviews — Subscribe on YouTube! Tags: children crimes Exclusive Politics prison Wife. Top stories. I couldn't fathom a reason why you wouldn't - your career wasn't at stake anymore.

You know as well as anyone, that my father is guilty of nothing. He made mistakes - he's human, after all - but nothing was illegal. I thought you would fix it. I thought you would finally right this wrong. You didn't have to pardon him, only commute the sentence. You just had to let him come home. You didn't. You released others, like Chelsea Manning or FALN terrorists, who actually committed reprehensible crimes, but you failed to release an innocent man.

Even if he was guilty of anything, the fourteen year sentence was extreme and you said yourself that you want to make sure that no one is being over sentenced. My father had faith in you. He had, and still has, faith in the system, in justice, in mankind, and in God. I, on the other hand, have lost all faith.

I expect people to let me down. I expect the scale of justice to tip in the favor of those who manipulate, lie, and scheme. As for God, I have no reason to believe He exists. If I told this to my dad, it would break his heart. He has become deeply faithful while in prison. He believes that God has a plan for everything and that He is good.

I don't buy it anymore. I want more than anything to have faith, but I don't think I know how. If there was a God, an all-powerful, all good, and all knowing God, my family wouldn't have had to endure this trauma.

Most importantly, though, my father believes in forgiveness. He harbors no ill will towards anyone involved in his imprisonment. He's not angry. He used to be, it caused him to drink way too much to blunt the pain, but he's not anymore.

He's disappointed in you now, but he'll forgive you. He won't hold a grudge. I will, though. I have spent eight years of my life living with such rage and resentment that allowing myself to actually feel it would be debilitating. I am shocked at how bitter and full of hate I have become.

Underneath that, though, I'm just sad and hurt. I am sad that I have absolutely no control over such an important part of my life. I have no control over if my dad will be at my college graduation, or be there to walk me down the aisle, or as a shoulder to cry on when life gets even harder - though that seems impossible to me right now.

Since I was twelve, I've been wanting my life to go back to normal; to have my dad home and not have to worry about another let down. I'll be 21 this summer, and I'm still waiting. I don't even remember what normal was anymore. I have no recollection of my childhood, and no desire to let myself reminisce in any of the 'good times'. You could have fixed it. It wouldn't have negated the past - I'm stuck with the scars for the rest of my life - but it would've allowed the cycle of trauma to finally come to an end.

I've dealt with depression, anxiety, insomnia, and aspects of PTSD. I've had days where I couldn't pry myself from bed, days where I can't stop crying or feeling the pain that has been inflicted continuously, and days where the fear of another eight years consumes me completely.

For a while I couldn't see a news truck without panicking. To this day, I still have trouble with the sound of helicopters. After having them fly over my house for a week when we were trapped inside, hiding from the parasites and their cameras parked on the streets, the sound of one usually makes me feel paralyzed.

It's gotten better, though. Most of the time I'm fine. Sometimes I barely notice it until it's flying away. Other times it's all I hear - especially when there's one near my house.

Everything is treatable, I've had more than enough therapy to know that, but it doesn't change the fact that I spent my entire adolescence in a state of fight or flight, or that every time there's a chance my last name will be mentioned I'm worried. It doesn't change the inexcusable remarks people have made about my family and I, nor does it the fact that people feel it is their right to say whatever they please to me or behind my back.

I've handled it so far, though.