What they found inside Dennis’s house was horrifying.
He had hundreds of photos of me and seven other women in the neighborhood — all women who lived alone or whose husbands worked daytime hours. Detailed logs of our schedules, hacked neighborhood cameras, files from his previous neighborhood in Sacramento with similar surveillance and newspaper clippings about break-ins and assaults.
Forensic teams found Dennis’s fingerprints in my bedroom, bathroom, and closet. A tiny hidden camera was discovered in my bedroom smoke detector, streaming footage to his computer for two months.
Similar hidden cameras were found in three other women’s homes. One neighbor, Iris, had items from her underwear drawer stolen and posed on her bed. Another woman, Clare, had been the target of a detailed abduction plan involving chloroform, zip ties, and duct tape.
The case exploded. Dennis was charged with multiple felonies including burglary, stalking, and invasion of privacy. The trial lasted three weeks. Seven women testified. The jury found him guilty on all counts.
At sentencing, the judge gave him 18 years in prison, noting the systematic nature of his crimes and the danger he posed.
I sold my house. The trauma destroyed my marriage. Greg and I eventually divorced. I now live in a secure apartment with extensive security systems. I’ve learned to trust my instincts no matter what others say.
Dennis stole my sense of safety, but he also taught me the importance of listening to that cold feeling in my stomach.
That’s not paranoia. That’s survival.
The end.
