By Ryan Yousefi
By Chuck Strouse
By Terrence McCoy
By Terrence McCoy
By Terrence McCoy
By Michael E. Miller
By Kyle Munzenrieder
By Michael E. Miller
These are confusing times for affairs of the heart. Men are sleazy jerks; women are fickle teases. For years now, the lonely and lovelorn have resorted to dating services and romance sections of weekly newspapers.
Romantics, however, hold out for miraculous chance meetings in laundromats, discount stores, airports, and gas stations. Those are the kind of places that 46-year-old Vernon Braithwaite met women. During the past five years, he wed one woman and promised marriage to at least six others, prosecutors say. He fathered two children -- one by his wife and another by a fiancee.
"He's a really sweet guy, he really is," says Valerie Teemer, who identified herself as Braithwaite's "significant other" in a recent telephone interview. "He and I have been together for more than five years now. Evidently I must care about him a lot."
For Braithwaite, though, the honeymoon is over. The self-proclaimed doctor of psychology and preacher from the Caribbean island of St. Lucia is in the Metro-Dade West Detention Center. Prosecutors say that, armed with sweet talk and occasionally a machete, Braithwaite swindled more than $70,000 from seven women and stalked an eighth. He was arrested at his Southwest Dade home August 16 and is being held without bond. The charges: organized fraud, grand theft, aggravated stalking, and falsely claiming to hold an academic degree. The trial is set for September 28.
"What was most alarming to us was that there was domestic violence involved," comments Miami-Dade Police Detective Christina Reyes. His modus operandi, according to Reyes: Soon after meeting a woman he would propose marriage. Then he would borrow money. When confronted about his unpaid debts, he would become violent.
"Vernon Braithwaite is not a violent man," contends his lawyer, Jerry Cariglio, who has entered not guilty pleas to all the charges. "This isn't a case of Vernon meeting these women, taking money from them and leaving. It appears it's the other way around. These women are the ones who broke off the relationships." Cariglio denies his client stole money from anyone.
Braithwaite's trail of broken hearts apparently started in his native St. Lucia, where he made news in the Crusader newspaper. According to a December 29, 1990 story by reporter George Odlum -- now the island's foreign minister -- Braithwaite claimed to be a medical doctor and minister. Hairdresser Daisy Willie was quoted in the article. Today, she says she dated him for two weeks about five years ago and remembers him well. "He wanted to borrow money and I said 'I don't lend money to any guy, sorry,' " recalls Willie, who now works in a salon at the Rex St. Lucian Hotel in the town of Castries. She says Braithwaite proposed marriage after a week, but she declined. Attorney Cariglio questions the veracity of the Crusader article, which did not include a comment from Braithwaite.
Most of the women Braithwaite wooed in Southwest Dade during the past five years were less penny-wise than Willie, according to prosecutors and court documents. Only one of them -- who gave her name as Danielle -- would tell her story to New Times. But others testified under oath about Braithwaite. Their stories provide a dizzying tale of unbridled romance, astonishing forgiveness, and unpredictable brutality -- which Cariglio "vigorously" disputes on many counts. Here are some highlights from the arrest affidavit:
Louisa Nesbit contends she met Braithwaite at a Southwest Dade laundromat in September 1993. He told her he worked at home as a psychologist, counselling employees of Publix and Burdines. He gave Nesbit his number. Apparently she was impressed. She called him that night and after dating for a month, Braithwaite proposed marriage. Nesbit at first demurred, then agreed. She believed Braithwaite's story that his parents wed following a week-long acquaintance. A month later she was pregnant. Then he started asking for money, telling Nesbit his funds were tied up in a lawsuit with his ex-wife. First Nesbit loaned him $350. Then $1500. Then $3400. By mid-1994, Nesbit was broke, her car was repossessed, and she defaulted on her mortgage. She left Braithwaite and moved in with her sister, but relented after he apologized. Then during an argument, she claims he indicated he would cut her with a machete. "He's never threatened anybody with a machete," retorts Cariglio.
Shortly after the baby was born in September 1994, Braithwaite ripped a telephone from a wall and moved out. Nesbit claims he owes her $11,000.
Sophia Lopez, a home products saleswoman, claims Braithwaite simultaneously conducted a relationship with her. Braithwaite and Lopez met at a Southwest Dade K-Mart in fall 1993, she says. Lopez called him two weeks later and they married a little more than a month after meeting. Soon Lopez guaranteed a $20,000 car loan for Braithwaite, who promised to make the payments. Though lenders soon repossessed the automobile, she forgave him -- then forked over her Spiegel and Shell credit cards. He rang up $1300.
Throughout the first half of 1994, they argued over his unpaid debts, Lopez attests. On one occasion he smashed her head against a car window while driving away from The Falls in Kendall. "That's not true," counters Cariglio. But Lopez says she pardoned Braithwaite, allowing him to add his name to her Citibank Visa account. She did not forgive him so easily after becoming pregnant in April 1994 -- especially when he punched her in the stomach and held a machete to her neck. Again, Cariglio says those allegations are false. After Lopez sought a restraining order, Braithwaite left her. But that didn't stop him from charging another $759 on her Visa card. He purportedly left a tab that Lopez estimates at $2000.