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  • Writer's pictureBillie Proffitt

Just because it's Christmas -

Updated: Aug 13

Dear Friends, Family, Once-Upon-A-Time DeFacto Friends & In-Laws, and of course, my Estranged DeFacto Spouse, Nicky,

I hope this finds you well. I’m sure a number of you are surprised to hear from me all these years later, a number will be surprised by the content of this note, (not to mention the content airing in January), and a fair amount of you might fall into both categories. I want to open by setting the tone of this: the following statements come from my heart with sheer vulnerability; I am taking action in breaking the toxic cycle Nick and I have been stuck in since about 2013, and instead of “waiting for goodness to win out” and “hoping for the best”, I am actively speaking my truths with love, authenticity, and integrity to inspire positive outcomes.

I realize that some of you may not want to know these realities, but keeping these horrific circumstances imposed on me by Nick is too much weight for me to bear anymore, so I am vehemently taking my power back as I speak this story in full - start, to (I hope finish, but I don’t have control over that, so...) start to current circumstances. I have not been silent thus far, but I have been reserved in what I’ve put forward versus what I have omitted from my life’s happenings, mostly due to my trust in the developed countries’ legal systems where these scenarios have played out (first Australia, then America). I am none such the naive anymore.

I’m not trying to bring anyone into this who doesn’t want to be involved, but I am entirely entitled to speak my truths. I am not sorry for speaking out - since you know this man and now that you have become aware of what he has been hiding, you too share in the responsibility for allowing this ugliness to grow any further than it already has. I’m not expecting anyone to do anything, per se, but I will remind us all that our behavior and our choices of actions, and choices of inaction, are, have always been, and will always remain between us and (whatever each of us believes as our version is of ) god. We are all constantly creating the world we live in, whether we want this responsibility or not.

Let me be very clear here too, that I do not desire to be writing this - not at all. I don’t want to be working on the project that I am so diligently, I have much better things to spend my time and energy doing to bring goodness into the world, starting with the 14 original projects on the Annette Proffitt Productions slate that I do wish to be focused on. But I simply can’t because there isn’t enough time in my days amongst the full-time tasks of defending myself against Nick’s frivolous lawsuits. So instead, I am surrendering to my reality: I am writing, and speaking, the details of what I’ve lived and what I am surviving.

For the past nearly 6 years now, Nick has been using his father’s money and his mother’s toxic fundamental and psychological beliefs and behavioral patterns, to gaslight me and others as we have been in various lawsuits in both Australia and California.

Let me take this moment to remind everyone that we have no children together. Not even a pet - genuinely there is not a single emotionally created shared being between us. So why hasn’t he let me go yet? Great question. I’ve moved on - I’ve fallen in love with 2 other men, I’ve said yes when being proposed to 3 times, since leaving Nick, but every time, these courtroom weights become too much and my newer relationships fall apart beneath them.

I want to clarify that the train for this email has been in motion since early November - there are a lot of moving parts to a production as I have undertaken, and it was all transpiring much before the surprise news I received last weekend. A huge congratulations to Nick & Emily, (is it? I’ve never been introduced properly, I just get the goss down the grapevine)… I was genuinely so happy to hear that Nick proposed! My stomach leaped with butterflies in happiness as I stood in Texas! I felt elated for them, as now having called off 6 engagements myself, I know quite well what the bliss and hope feels like in the beginning. The surreal lightness inside me was also rooted selfishly in the thoughts that this meant Nick was finally ready to let me go, to let me be free in living my own life apart from him.

However, then reality set in and I realized that nothing has changed at all.

I would want to know the truth if I were in Emily's shoes, so really the timing of A Crazy Little Thing Called Love is kismet - it is much bigger than me. I have known and felt that all along - what I have endured is much bigger than me. This is not only my story. But with this turn of events, I feel that I have been gifted an opportunity to choose acting with courage, honor, and to treat this woman whom I have never met with the most respect possible in the sacred sisterhood between women: I am speaking the whole truth so that she has all the information needed to make up her own mind, to move forward in her new life authentically and with eyes wide open, instead of under the false pretenses I know so very well which come dictated by Nicholas, and the emotionally dangerous stronghold Veronika keeps on he and Joe’s lives.

As many of you know I started my company, Annette Proffitt Productions, back in January of 2016, which included my blog of short stories called Musings, and then my book, Dirty Thirty: The Thirty Most Important Lessons I Learned By Thirty was published in various forms in 2017. Nick had promised before I agreed to move to Australia with him in 2010, that he wanted to start Annette Proffitt Productions with me, but we needed the seed money to do so - which is why we both needed to focus our efforts on building Edale Capital first… Alas, down the road, here we are, as things unfolded very differently to how he had sworn up and down, to how he had intimately promised me they would go. This is a very reliable part of Nick’s personality: his sociopathic ability to lie, to shrug his shoulders and say, “So?” Or “Things changed?” His word means nothing to him and he tells others whatever it is he thinks they want to hear - a trait exceedingly common in children of Controlling Mothers, as clearly explained in Dr. Teri Apter’s book: Difficult Mothers. And then they go behind whoever’s back to do as they please anyway, regardless of their words or their promises. These are also tell-tale signs on the DSM of Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

Historically, I have always left names out of my blog and my book - or used pseudonyms, out of respect for people's privacy, but there is no goodwill left anymore; Nick has proved himself unworthy of my respect or even decency over the past decade. I will be telling this story in full with all real names, locations and series of events as true crime, with evidence of the unjust crimes unfolding. I have tried to take the high road again and again with Nick: I’ve written notes of apology, mailed him gifts, suggested many times in many ways for us to communicate with one another directly via WhatsApp, email, in person, etc., I have given Nick everything I could afford in settlement offers (and oftentimes things I could not afford to lose) in hopes of putting our relationship behind us, of cutting all ties - but we have yet another trial on the books for early 2020. This is over our joint HSBC Australia account with a frozen sum of roughly AU $28,000 - today that’s about US $19,318 - an educated guess is that this is also about the amount of money Nick pays his Los Angeles based legal team each month. This current lawsuit began in August of 2018, so that’s almost 18 months now - I’m guessing about US quarter of a million dollars spent. On just this case. The date for this trial was December 4, 2019, then moved to January 21, 2020, and was recently pushed back again to a not-yet-known date in 2020 - this has been Nick and both his Australian and American legal teams’ tactics from the beginning, in March of 2014 when my Sydney-based solicitor Robert Van Aalst tried to serve Nick with our divorce papers. A. Extreme avoidance and B. Bleed Billie and her family dry in legal fees until Nick wins by default. And it’s worked, which brings me to the last reason for this note coming today...

I am getting ready to file for bankruptcy in the new year.

Nick and his legal teams have played the inefficient and crooked justice systems to their advantage using a combination of Joe’s money and poor ethics to successfully take any and everything they can from me. I now have nothing left to lose. Well, nothing of monetary value anyway, but I had a dream a few months ago that clarified very beautifully, yet very painfully and very sadly, what I do have left as compared to what Nicky started with.


In this dream I arrived alone, walking onto the covered patio of an inexpensive cafe in an undisclosed, slightly underdeveloped tropical beach town. With the humidity, it could have been North Queensland, or with the cheaply supplied furniture and construction, it easily could have been in Thailand, Caribbean Mexico, the Maldives or anywhere else around the equator. A cheap little getaway for those traveling on a budget - like me these days! Hahaha! I sat, ordered something cold to drink, and one by one my girlfriends from around the world arrived, at different times, stayed for chats and laughs &andcanapés and iced teas as long as they could with the group, and then one by one left again when they had to. It felt warm and easy - like a life I haven’t lived in so long I couldn’t remember having felt so light and so supported - everything just felt so easy and natural, so meant to be. As only about three of us were left, and as if we all knew without speaking it, what was going happen next - why we were all there, we all felt Nick arrive and then saw him walk to a little table on a different side of the restaurant’s patio. He didn’t notice us, and it seemed he’d been staying here for a while because he had a “usual” table and when the waiter walked up to him, Nick didn’t require a menu, only a short interaction of what seemed to be ordering “his usual” the way he liked it, and the waiter was gone again in a relaxed flash.

As I watched, one friend’s hand landed on my knee, another on my shoulder and yet another hugged me goodbye from behind as if to say, but without words, “Okay, Babes - this is the part of the journey you do alone. Be brave and be compassionate - we are always supporting you from afar.” And just like that my girlfriends were all gone.

I stood up and calmly walked over to the chair across from Nick’s at his little two-seater table and without a word from either of us, I sat down. He wasn’t expecting me, but he was happy, even comforted to see me. We didn’t speak really beyond, “Hi.” “Hi.” And his meal arrived. We sat quietly with knowing looks at each other as he ate and after he finished, I asked him, “Do you want me to come back with you?” He agreed. We quietly walked together to a little rented, ground-floor studio apartment close to the cafe. When he opened the door everything was a dingy white. It smelled musty but with a mixture of cheap cleaning fluid. There was mildew on the walls and a few insects crawling around. Everything was white, inexpensively furnished - easily broken. A small twin bed with a polyester comforter (ill-fitting for the climate) on a thin, old mattress and a wiry frame. The kitchenette was all cheap and white, a toaster, a tiny oven and stove combo, a little fridge. I looked around for a chair for a visitor, but couldn’t find one. His suitcase was nowhere to be seen, and not an item was present that seemed to be his. I went and sat on the side of the rickety bed nearest the little stove and Nick lay down with his head in my lap. He started to cry, just uncontrollably sobbing with his head in my lap as I held his shoulders with my left arm and stroked my fingernails through his hair with my right. There we sat for a long time, together quietly, except for his cries, until I woke up.


All morning I ruminated on this dream, how my hurt heart hurt for Nick’s hurt, lost heart. And then piece by piece it came to me what the universe (my version of god) was trying to show, or even tell me. That apartment is a physical, mental and emotional view of what it is to be inside Nick. It’s the same thing from a famous interview with Bob Marley…

Reporter: You made a lot of money out of your music?

Bob: Money? I mean, how much is a lot of money to you?

Reporter: That's a good question. Have you made, say millions of dollars?

Bob: No.

Reporter: Are you a rich man?

Bob: What you mean rich, what ya mean?

Reporter: Do you have a lot of possessions? A lot of money in the bank?

Bob: Possessions make you rich?

I don't have that type of richness.

My richness is life, forever.

My richness is life, too. My richness exists in my relationships, in my stories, in my work, in my willingness to push on toward the collective greater good of the future… in all the intangible things that make life worth living.

So go ahead, Nick - take it all, you already have. What does it matter anymore that you’ve won the salaries owed to me by Edale? That you’ve won our West Hollywood home? And our Brisbane home? That you’ve bankrupted me at 33 years old? What you hate about me and maybe the reason you can’t let go of me, is because you can’t take the riches I have: they are invisible and they are earned. Earned by me. Not inherited, like the worldly possessions Joe’s leaving you, or the Nazi knighthood Veronika is. My power lies in intangible things that you can’t steal and my richness exists on a plane you have refused to touch in your own existence because your character’s cowardice consumes and drives you. In your confused and fear-driven toxic fundamental beliefs, you think your monetary gains suffice in standing in authenticity’s place, but they don’t, and somewhere inside, you know they don’t. Which is why you can’t let go of me. So go ahead, take it all, Nicky… You can’t steal from me the richness I am a part of, because it doesn’t belong to me. It’s the give and take of god’s world that we all are a part of, whether we want to be or not. I lean into it with open-heart courage and you hate that you can never take that from me.

We’ve asked you a million times, Butta - I have personally, my various lawyers have, judges have, your lawyers have, the Queensland police officer, Oliver Laurence has…


Please! Tell us! What do you want? And if I can give it to you, I will. I’m pretty sure by this point though, all you want is your precious “global non-disclosure agreement” that every lawsuit has always come down to... but I refuse to compromise my character. So here you go, Nick - here’s my response to your desired “global NDA”, and your refusal to settle realistically for it - and all of it will be unveiled in the coming weeks. It’s a pretty simple equation, actually: if you weren’t such an empty, insecure, horrible person, you wouldn’t fear other people hearing the truth of your behaviors. This was entirely within your power to have avoided: you could have simply chosen to act with honor and goodness, and none of this story would exist for me to tell. Instead, this is the road you chose, and now I am showing up as a much better narrator of it.

In early 2020 I am releasing my podcast, A Crazy Little Thing Called Law, which is the entire story of the past 6+ years - the defacto marriage of Nick and I, and all the good, bad and ugly realities of it. It’s a mixture of true crime: the realities of how useless and inept even developed countries’ justice systems are and how often they fail, and the story of my 20’s into my 30’s - my defacto marriage to Nick Butta. My show notes will have copies of all the court documents that I can afford to purchase (I’ll explain how that all works) and all kinds of other documents so anyone is welcome to read them for themselves and make their own mind up as to what is real. I hope y’all tune in to hear the wild ride I’ve been enduring that’s led me to bankruptcy - trust me, truth is definitely stranger than fiction.

I don’t hate you, Nicky - I’m indifferent to you. I have been for years - I have been on the indifferent spectrum since you “overslept” and missed my 28th birthday party at The Art Gallery of NSW for the exhibition America! walk-through, and I have become more and more indifferent about you ever since: you are not the kind of human being I want anyone to think is close to me. We are the company we keep and I am ashamed to have trusted you as much as I did, to have spent so many years by your side. I just want you to let me go so that we both can move on with our lives to happier and healthier eras...

Yet for years now, you just refuse to. I mean, to think that you have been dating Emily for all this time as you fly back and back forth to court hearings here with me? To think that you contemplated and then decided to propose, bought her a ring, planned a trip to Japan, took her there, popped the question, told family and friends, and yet you chose never to drop the current lawsuit you’re engaged in with me in California…??? That is sociopathic cold, and shows very clearly where your priorities are.

So now I’m fighting your fire with my fire, Nick. We’ll see where it goes from here. Are you ready to let this all go yet?

I remember the closing of a discussion we shared when I was moving into Kerryn’s terrace house for 2013, the “Sort Your Shit Out” year… (HA! All the cool kids call it “ENM” now...) Have you stopped using drugs yet? It doesn’t matter, not my problem. Hasn’t been for years. I asked you, “Do you really think your life will be better without me?” And you told me, “No, I know it won’t be better, but it certainly will be easier.” And that pretty much sums it up, Nicky. You always choose easier, shallower - vapid, inauthentic, materialistic.

You were beautiful once - when I fell in love with you. I’ve seen the real you in glimpses, when you lived in The UK, worked to earn your money, didn’t live within Sunday-dinner-distance of your Mummy - but not in so long that I often forget the real you exists under all this bullshit.

Now, for another quick note on a different subject included in this project - this email is much longer than I had wanted, apologies. But a huge part of my bankruptcy is also due to the non-payment of my outstanding contracts (along with at least 14 other people’s) from a fraudulent company named SeVIInth Wave, started by two career con-men/criminals: an (I believe) Ohio-born man who goes under 5 aliases depending on who he is trying to fool (so we don’t know which one is truly him, or if maybe all 3 are?) Dott Nguyen/Joseph Destatte/Robert Destatte and his cohort, a Kiwi originally from Auckland named Graham Bradstreet, who has been living between The UK and Los Angeles for many years. Their antics across numerous American states, and in a couple of other countries as well, is a big element to my downfall, and more perfect illustrations of what the useless/inept/crooked American judicial system and the lazy law enforcement officials who implement the lackadaisical, unconscious biased rules allow to happen to good people. There is active litigation against these men currently as well, but unfortunately, with my current circumstances, I can’t afford to partake as anything other than a witness. Every part of the judicial system costs money. The ways in which these stories of Nick and Joe/Dott weave together are so bizarre - I promise it will be entertaining from afar. Not from my vantage point, but hey, que sera, sera.

It’s time for the whole truth surrounding these horrific circumstances to come to the surface.

With much love, light and hope for the greater good to win out,


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