In March 2022, a grand jury indicted Luke Wenke of Olean, New York on federal charges of cyberstalking and making interstate threats (USA v. Luke Wenke, 1:22-cr-00035). The charges stemmed from allegations that Wenke had stalked and threatened a Minnesota defence attorney who was representing Wenke’s romantic obsession (Ryan) in a criminal case.
According to the indictment, Wenke acted with the intention of harassing and causing severe emotional distress to the lawyer:
USA v. Luke Wenke (1:22-cr-00035)
Document #8: Indictment – Filed March 15th, 2022
At the time, I was growing increasingly frustrated by Wenke’s failure to own up to his wrongdoings during our phone conversations. Even when he claimed to take accountability, he still blamed others for his actions. He also continued to mistreat me and tried to boss me around from jail. But I’m not his mommy, and I was done letting him run me over.
The last straw came right after the indictment was issued.
I received a late-night call from a man who had just gotten out of jail, asking about the cost of my time and expressing an interest in using drugs together. Wenke had falsely advertised me as a prostitute to this man after I specifically told him not to give out my last name, phone number, address, or other personal information. Well aware of his tendency to overshare, I had very sternly warned Wenke that I’d feel extremely betrayed if he disrespected this clearly defined boundary.
A few nights later, Wenke called me. He nonchalantly apologised and moved onto the next topic (himself, of course) without letting me respond. As if he naturally expected me to automatically be over it, with no discussion necessary. He then started sobbing and saying he never expected to be in jail and facing criminal charges.
My sympathy was bone-dry. In fact, hearing Wenke crying and feeling sorry for himself after betraying me just days earlier infuriated me. Why in the world would I feel sorry for someone who, against my clearly stated wishes, had told an incarcerated stranger that I would fuck them for $80 and get high with them?
I told Wenke I had been a good friend to him. Even if I wasn’t perfect, my heart was always in the right place. But his clearly wasn’t. I said some choice words, hung up, and never answered his calls again. Since then, my only correspondence to Wenke has been to tell (and, at times, beg) him to leave me alone.
Wenke seemed utterly baffled that I was mad at him for depicting me as a drug-addled prostitute and offering my non-existent “services” to his jail friends.
To this day, he downplays the incident in his letters to the judge overseeing his case. Wenke acts like I overreacted and that it was no big deal. He seems to think that because no one harmed me, I have no right to be mad. He also appears to be under the false impression that I’m a career prostitute because I casually dated rich older men during college (almost a decade ago).
What I do with my personal life is my business (although it’s not very eventful these days, because Wenke targets everyone I associate with and I refuse to put anyone in harm’s way). Even if I was a sex worker (I’m not), Wenke didn’t have permission to market my body, choose my clientele, or set my prices.
On the contrary, I had told him to keep his mouth shut about something for once in his pitiful life, and that jail isn’t the place for his idiotic control games. The bottom line is that a real friend wouldn’t do something like that.