It was the end of a shooting day on season one of The D-List The D-List, and the crew had just left the house. We'd been in Las Vegas that morning filming as wel , so it real y had been a long day.

The phone rang, and it was my accountant. He said, "Hey, I just got a cal from your bank, and somebody tried to use your ATM in two different states today."

I appreciated the concern, but I felt I was able to nip that cal in the bud. "Oh wel , we were shooting in Vegas this morning, so that was me,"

I said.

"Wel , somebody tried to use that same card this afternoon at a Universal City ATM."

That sounded odd. "I've never gone to a Universal City ATM."

"Wel , I'm looking back now on your withdrawals," he said, "and I see several from a Universal City ATM. I just a.s.sumed it was the one you went to."

"I rarely take cash out," I explained to him. "I'm more likely to put stuff on cards and get the miles. But actual cash, I might withdraw $500 a month at the most."

"Wel , I'm seeing two different ATM cards, used back-to-back at this machine. One has a withdrawal of a thousand dol ars and one is for five hundred. Someone is using those cards approximately once every three weeks, and they're taking out fifteen hundred dol ars. With the receipts I'm looking at, it looks like whoever this was withdrew about twenty thousand. And I've only gone back a few months."

I immediately got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. This wasn't a case of my cards being missing and I cal it in to the bank. This was twenty grand stolen out of my account. s.h.i.t.

"Who has your PIN number?" my accountant asked.

"The only people who have my PIN number are me, Matt, and Jessica."

Sometimes I sent Jessica out to get cash. Other times Matt and I would be running around doing errands and if I was driving, I would pul over and ask him to go to the ATM and get cash out for me. That's why he had my PIN number. Oh, and he was also my husband my husband.

My mind was racing at this point. I'd have to ask Jessica point-blank if she took the money, which didn't sit wel with me. Could there have been a worker in the house who might have gotten hold of the cards? While I was talking to the accountant, I went to my wal et.

"I'm holding those ATM cards," I told my accountant. "They haven't been stolen."

"Wel , if Matt and Jessica are the only ones who have access to your ATM cards, and they both have your PIN numbers, you'd better ask them. You've got twenty minutes, because I've cal ed the bank, and they're going to screen the tape of whoever the person was who went this afternoon and withdrew the fifteen hundred dol ars."

I hung up the phone, and steeled myself for an incredibly uncomfortable moment. I found Jessica walking up the stairs with a file in her hand, and I leaned over from the railing and said real y off-handedly, "Jessica, I have to ask you a real y weird question. I just found out somebody got my ATM cards and they've withdrawn twenty thousand dol ars from my bank account. So I've just got to ask you, did you ever take my ATM cards?"

She said, "No! G.o.d no," G.o.d no," and I'l never forget this, Jessica's whole neck got this red rash instantly. She had a look on her face of utterly genuine confusion. To me it was completely the physical reaction of someone innocent. I knew it wasn't from guilt. First of al , Jessica's a terrible liar, thank G.o.d, and second of al , if someone wrongly accused me of something, I'd get sweaty and nervous and shake, too, probably, thinking, and I'l never forget this, Jessica's whole neck got this red rash instantly. She had a look on her face of utterly genuine confusion. To me it was completely the physical reaction of someone innocent. I knew it wasn't from guilt. First of al , Jessica's a terrible liar, thank G.o.d, and second of al , if someone wrongly accused me of something, I'd get sweaty and nervous and shake, too, probably, thinking, Oh my G.o.d, what do I have to say to defend myself? Oh my G.o.d, what do I have to say to defend myself? I know I would. This was a girl I'd been working with for three years, who was legitimately flipped out that this had happened. In any case, she took a beat and said, "Is there anything I can do to help you find out?" Also not something a guilty person says. I told her I'd get back to her when I found out more. I know I would. This was a girl I'd been working with for three years, who was legitimately flipped out that this had happened. In any case, she took a beat and said, "Is there anything I can do to help you find out?" Also not something a guilty person says. I told her I'd get back to her when I found out more.

Wel , being pragmatic, I couldn't completely rule out my husband, so I decided to ask him directly, too. He could certainly ask the same of me if something like this came up. I cal ed him into our bedroom, closed the doors, and he sat down. He was pretty large by this point, and he cut an immense figure in the chair. "Okay," I said, "I have to ask you something, and it's a real y hard question, but just be completely honest with me, no matter what the answer is."

I stil real y didn't think it could be Matt. I was already thinking of who had been in the house over the last few months, and my mind was racing. "I just got a cal from the accountant, and what they're tel ing me is somebody has taken my ATM card, gone to a Universal City ATM and systematical y taken out twenty thousand dol ars from my accounts over the last few months. So I have to ask, have you been taking my ATM card and stealing money?"

"No."

"Okay, because you and Jessica are the only ones with my PIN number, and I've already asked Jessica."

"It wasn't me," he said.

For some reason, the phrase "due diligence" came into my head. I was trying to think rational y. Suspicion started creeping into my mind, so I just wanted to stay with the facts. I wanted Matt to know everything that I'd been told by the accountant. "Al right. Wel , you should know the accountant is on the phone with the bank, and they're going to look at the tape, and he's going to cal me back in about five minutes. So, I know it sounds crazy, Matt, but if you're on that tape, they're going to know, and it's going to be al over their office."

That's when he said, "It was me."

I have to say, that moment was absolutely like being socked in my heart. Not like being punched in the gut or the face, but cold-c.o.c.ked in my heart. My heart started beating real y fast, the way it does when you're faced with having to realize something you don't want to accept as true, that a horrible inevitability is at hand. I couldn't pretend I didn't hear it. He came right out and said it. But only after ...

That's when I thought, My G.o.d, he only admitted it when he knew My G.o.d, he only admitted it when he knew there was a tape and he would get caught there was a tape and he would get caught. Ouch.

The accountant cal ed back, and al I said was, "Matt admitted it. I'l cal you later."

I was physical y shaking. But I wasn't crying. I wasn't hysterical.

Several things were flying around in my head. Number one, obviously, was why? why? Number two, Number two, what have I done to set the stage for this? In what have I done to set the stage for this? In what way have I created an environment where this could happen? what way have I created an environment where this could happen?

Number three, we're in the middle of shooting a reality show. The crew is coming back tomorrow morning at 9 a.m. How does that work? How does that work?

When s.h.i.tty things happen to me, I go into processing mode. I wouldn't say my approach dealing with the situation was matter-of-fact, but I started thinking about the actions I needed to take right then and there. I set aside feelings and emotion and instead began taking care of business. I wanted to tel Jessica immediately that she was off the hook, because I felt it was my responsibility to put her mind at ease after my uncomfortable inquiry. But that meant, by process of elimination, that Jessica was going to know it was Matt. I wanted him to know that I had to go do this.

"I understand. You need to do whatever you need to do right now. I've done a horrible thing to you, so whoever you need to tel , whoever you need to process this with, I understand. You've earned the right to get through this however you see fit."

"Okay, then," I said. "Let's take this one step at a time. Why did you do it?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I don't know."

He was very stil . He didn't cry, he wasn't cavalier, and he seemed to be grasping the gravity of the situation. I told him to walk me through it, and while his reaction wasn't exactly shifty-meaning he wasn't making up crazy lies about it-what he was saying just wasn't adding up. "My business isn't going wel . I'm not real y making money. I just didn't have any money."

"Okay, but what made you think that you were ent.i.tled to just take money from me?"

Al he could say was, "I just felt I needed more money."

My head was spinning with big questions. What did that mean, he What did that mean, he needed "more money"? Did I now have to start questioning everything needed "more money"? Did I now have to start questioning everything with this guy? Did I marry the wrong man? Did he really love me? with this guy? Did I marry the wrong man? Did he really love me?

Ever? Did I think I was overlooking a small thing when in fact I was overlooking a giant thing? overlooking a giant thing? Because I don't know why just because there's a piece of paper saying we're married that I have to lose half of my income to someone, half of what I earned from my own hard work. In fact, if Matt had asked for a joint account-which he didn't-I would have been instantly suspicious. If I'd married Steve Wozniak, I certainly wouldn't have expected half his money, or half his earnings during the time we were together. I know California is a community property state, but these were ATM cards that had my name on them, that were accounts to which only I had contributed. Matt had his own ATM card, and his own income from his job, as far as I knew. Because I don't know why just because there's a piece of paper saying we're married that I have to lose half of my income to someone, half of what I earned from my own hard work. In fact, if Matt had asked for a joint account-which he didn't-I would have been instantly suspicious. If I'd married Steve Wozniak, I certainly wouldn't have expected half his money, or half his earnings during the time we were together. I know California is a community property state, but these were ATM cards that had my name on them, that were accounts to which only I had contributed. Matt had his own ATM card, and his own income from his job, as far as I knew.

At this point, I asked Matt to walk me through the process of obtaining this money. I was obsessed with wanting to know the details of it al .

He said he would get up early in the morning and while I was asleep -because if I can sleep in, I wil -he'd sneak into my wal et, take out both ATM cards, and race to that Universal City ATM, which was three minutes from the house. He'd then take out the maximum amounts you could-$1,000 from one card, $500 from the other-and return home with the cash, put it in his pocket, then put the ATM cards back in my wal et. Then this man-who knew more than anyone in my life how hard I'd worked to earn that money, who'd witnessed al the c.r.a.ppy gigs, the exhaustion, the long days that started early in the morning with filming and ended with getting on a plane at night to fly to the next show-would crawl back into bed with me.

Does that not sound like a betrayal of trust? You can argue the whole "his money is your money, your money is his money" thing al day long, but I'm not sneaking into anybody's wal et and taking their personal ATM cards.

This was not a situation where he'd come to me and said "Can you loan me twenty thousand dol ars?" It's the secretiveness that got to me.

Regardless of California state law, I'm sorry, in my book it's stealing. I was beginning to feel like a wife from one of those Dateline Dateline episodes where the husband has another family in Wyoming. episodes where the husband has another family in Wyoming.

After I confronted Matt, I did say, "Why didn't you just ask me for money?"

"Because I knew I couldn't justify why I didn't have my own money."

This seemed a bigger issue than I realized. "So not only do you need money, but you're now tel ing me that you haven't been working as much as you led me to believe? I thought you had several clients, and you were making three hundred dol ars to five hundred dol ars a day."

Shaking his head, "No."

Okay. I began steeling myself for the next revelation. "How many clients do you real y have?"

"Sometimes I have weeks where I make two hundred dol ars," he said.

Okay. "Wel , you're getting up every single day at six or seven in the morning, and you come home at five or six at night. What are you doing? Where do you go?"

"I drive around."

Okay. "Drive around where?"

He told me he'd go to the movies, go to the park, and go to the drive-thru. This is where he confessed to compulsively overeating. I remember him saying one thing that did make sense. He told me the real reason he had put on so much weight was because he felt so guilty about taking the money. Now I knew where the 100-extra-pounds issue came from.

But then I remembered how he'd tel me in great detail about his clients and workday, the computers he was fixing, the people causing him trouble, how he was trying to get $110 an hour instead of $100, al of it.

I didn't know what was true anymore. This bright, capable guy was apparently living and building a life that was this very intricate lie. It seemed so odd to me. Why couldn't he put al that energy and time and thought into his work instead?

"Matt, I have to ask you, what did you do with the money? It was cash.

That's a lot of tax-free money. Did you buy stuff? Do you have anything to show for it? Is there anything else you need to tel me?" I was desperate for answers.

"I just kind of p.i.s.sed it away."

"On what?" Because it's not like Matt ever showed up with a Rolex, or a sports car, or a $1,000 suit. I never saw any evidence of what he did with it, aside from the occasional trip to the electronics store to buy some new gadget for his computers, but it never seemed exorbitant. He just kept maintaining he didn't know how he spent the cash. To this day, in fact, I have no idea what he did with it. Later that day the accountant told me that at that one Universal City ATM alone, the withdrawn amount was $72,000. So that's $72,000 completely unaccounted for. He says he has no idea where it went. He never real y gave me an answer.

At this point I went into fix-it mode. That's what I know. It's my comfort zone. Yes, it was devastating emotional y. Yes, I was in shock. But like so many people who the night before found out their partner was cheating or lying or stealing, or who received some sort of earth- shattering news and stil have to get up the next morning and make breakfast and drive the kids to school, I was no different. I didn't have the luxury of fal ing apart and bringing everything around me to a halt, anymore than anyone else does in these situations. I believed we should continue with the show, because I wanted Matt to continue making money from the show, and I needed the stability of work. I didn't think the answer was for both of us to quit working and cry in separate homes for two years. Besides, I just couldn't make a colossal decision only an hour after getting the initial cal from my accountant.

I started spewing whatever suggestion came into my head. I was trying to make sense of everything at this point. I needed an action plan.

"Here's what you're going to do," I said. "You're going to go to a program cal ed Debtors Anonymous. It's exactly like AA. It's twelve steps, and it's free. Or maybe one dol ar a meeting. You never have to give more than that. It's a program that helps al kinds of people that are having al kinds of money problems." I was hoping he'd get the tools he needed to help him through whatever problem this was. I was grasping at straws, but I knew that I had friends who had had great success in various twelve-step programs. I told him he had to go tonight, and could go to a meeting every day if he needed to. I also suggested he go to Overeaters Anonymous meetings, because it was a program that I had attended several years earlier and found incredibly helpful in dealing with my own food issues.

He agreed, and then I went to talk to Jessica.

"Look, I can't go into the details, but I know it's not you," I said. "You probably figured out that it's Matt. There's no sense in trying to hide it."

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"Wel , let's see if this is an insurmountable problem or not."

Matt and I started couples therapy shortly thereafter, and I began to feel good about the future of our marriage. During those sessions he'd express remorse, saying what he did was a bad thing, although when express remorse, saying what he did was a bad thing, although when the therapist would ask if he had a reason for what he did, he'd usual y give the same response over and over, "I don't know, I don't know."

Through the course of therapy, he did admit to ent.i.tlement issues. "I understand it's not a healthy thing for me to feel ent.i.tled to al of your money and everything you have," he said. "I understand you worked real y hard for it, and I basical y goofed off."

Times like these made me think we could work things out. I took our marriage seriously, and while I'd been hit with a real whopper, I knew couples could have big problems and stil be together for decades. One of my attorneys, however, did try to have the "come to Jesus" talk with me. He's an attorney. I'm his client. It's his job to be direct. And I'l never forget the way he worded it. "I know you love Matt," he said. "He hit you for seventy-two thousand dol ars this time. Next time it could be five hundred thousand dol ars. And at that point, you have no one to blame but yourself, because you won't be able to act like you didn't know what you now know." It was the whole fool-me-twice-shame-on-me scenario.

But I didn't want to believe it. I couldn't argue with his logic, but I stil wanted to make it work. At the insistence of my attorneys, who were thinking more rational y than I was when it came to protecting everything I'd worked so hard for, I filed for divorce. But the idea was stil to try to work it out. Even if it led to some uncomfortable moments, like on Jimmy Kimmel Live Jimmy Kimmel Live.

"I heard you're getting divorced but you're staying with your husband,"

Jimmy said.

"Wel , you know, Jimmy, love is odd! Sometimes it's not til you get divorced that you realize you real y love the person!"

But it was kind of true. It's what I was feeling. So Matt and I kind of carried on as we had, with not a lot changing on the surface. Matt seemed to understand why filing for divorce was in my best interest, but he also appeared to go along with the notion that we were trying to mend the relationship. Sometimes we'd fight about what happened, and there'd be tears. But he never denied his actions, never said I was crazy or I made things up. He didn't argue about the fact that he did it. If it came up, he'd say, "Yeah, I've got to work on that."

He started leaving the house on a regular basis, and while I never attended OA meetings with him, let me tel you something: I have never seen anyone in my life so dedicated to healthy eating and rapid weight loss. He dove into that program headfirst. He shed pounds so quickly, that it led me to believe that he real y wanted to change his entire life.

That gave me a lot of encouragement. I was actual y concerned that he was getting a little too obsessive about losing the weight-he took his own low-calorie food with him everywhere-but I thought, he's bettering himself. Good. What I didn't know until later was that while he was was committed to a weight-loss program, he had been lying about regularly meeting with folks to deal with his money issues. It became the same old thing. He'd say he was going to Pasadena for a DA meeting, tel me the details about it: about his new sponsor he'd had coffee with, the work groups he'd joined, the columns of numbers they'd have him write out on notepads. Then a month later he'd admit, "I didn't go." committed to a weight-loss program, he had been lying about regularly meeting with folks to deal with his money issues. It became the same old thing. He'd say he was going to Pasadena for a DA meeting, tel me the details about it: about his new sponsor he'd had coffee with, the work groups he'd joined, the columns of numbers they'd have him write out on notepads. Then a month later he'd admit, "I didn't go."

"What about two nights ago when you came back at nine thirty and told me about the meeting?" I said.

"I didn't go."

"You made that up?"

"Wel , I just drove around."

"Look, Matt, it's great that you're steaming broccoli three times a day, but I think the debt and the compulsive lying is your core issue to deal with. The overeating is a symptom of that. I think DA is the program you need to focus on. Matt, if you can lose one hundred pounds, then you can do anything. You've clearly got the discipline and the strength."

He would agree halfheartedly, but it was clear that he had completely thrown himself into losing al this weight. If actions speak louder than words, then by his rapidly shrinking body it was obvious he had focused on his weight-loss program over anything else.

But he'd also tel bizarre little little lies, too. Smal things that made no sense. Matt would say he talked to a mutual friend of ours, then I would talk to the friend and they'd say, "No, I haven't talked to Matt in weeks." lies, too. Smal things that made no sense. Matt would say he talked to a mutual friend of ours, then I would talk to the friend and they'd say, "No, I haven't talked to Matt in weeks."

When I'd ask Matt why he said that, it was again with "I don't know, I don't know."

What did he gain by tel ing little lies? Would it ever end? When I tried to discuss it, and G.o.d knows I tried many times, he seemed very shut down, and real y, you can't force someone to give you answers. So anytime this came up, I would liken his reaction to that of a little kid who's gotten caught doing something, has just checked out in his mind, and tries to end the conversation as quickly as possible. While I was frustrated by these moments, I kept thinking there must be an answer; I just hadn't figured it out yet.

A big change happened when Matt and I were watching a program on compulsive liars on Oprah Oprah, of al things. Of course, it made me uncomfortable. The similarities to Matt were weird. Wel , one of the liars on the show wound up in prison. When the show was over, I turned to Matt and said, "You know, Matt, if I wasn't your wife, you'd be in jail right now. I hope you're smart enough not to embezzle from one of your clients, cause they'd put your a.s.s in jail in two seconds."

And incidental y, when we were initial y dating, Matt told me that when he was in the army and stationed in Germany, he'd gone to military jail, for stealing a buddy's ATM card and trying to use it. At the time he told me this, I just chalked it up to being nineteen years old and stupid. Now, in retrospect, I realize I didn't have the appropriate reaction. I focused on the honesty of him tel ing me it, rather than the fact that he was caught stealing.

Anyway, when I mentioned prison to him, he had the oddest reaction.

"I think I'd be fine in jail," he said.

"Oh come on, pasty white guy," I said. "What are you talking about?"

"I real y think I could survive in prison," he said. "I would know how to a.s.similate, I would know how to blend in to the point where I just don't think anyone would bother me."

That was a chil ing moment for me. The fact that he'd given consideration to how he would a.s.similate in prison scared the s.h.i.t out of me. What it told me was, this guy's not afraid of anything, and more this guy's not afraid of anything, and more important, not afraid of getting caught important, not afraid of getting caught. I don't know about you, ladies, but I'd want a husband who's actively taking steps to stay out of prison. It freaked me out enough that I made a drastic move that night.

"This is real y hard, Matt," I said. "But you have to move out."

Matt found a roommate to share an apartment, but I stil held out hope for a miracle reconciliation, because despite the gravity of the situation, I couldn't stomach the notion that things wouldn't work out. Filming for the second season of The D-List The D-List was coming up, and I wanted my husband to be at home, and to be honest, I was determined not to act out my divorce for a comedy-driven reality show. Like anyone else, my responsibilities were such that I couldn't afford to take an infinite amount of time off to fix my personal life. I actual y thought we could film the show during the day and when the cameras left, we could run to couples therapy or somehow work on the damaged part of our relationship off camera. Besides, that's not what the show was. Then we had a therapy session in which the therapist actual y told Matt, "You have to start doing things to help Kathy. I'm suggesting you go back to work, Kathy, and Matt, probably the best thing you can do for her is go back to work as usual." was coming up, and I wanted my husband to be at home, and to be honest, I was determined not to act out my divorce for a comedy-driven reality show. Like anyone else, my responsibilities were such that I couldn't afford to take an infinite amount of time off to fix my personal life. I actual y thought we could film the show during the day and when the cameras left, we could run to couples therapy or somehow work on the damaged part of our relationship off camera. Besides, that's not what the show was. Then we had a therapy session in which the therapist actual y told Matt, "You have to start doing things to help Kathy. I'm suggesting you go back to work, Kathy, and Matt, probably the best thing you can do for her is go back to work as usual."

So when the crew began filming again, they never knew that Matt would arrive at the house half an hour before the cal time, and he'd leave twenty minutes after they left. It was excruciating, real y tough. At one point I took him back for a few months, then we'd be back in therapy, and I'd believe him for a while and be optimistic, and then I'd catch him in another lie. It wasn't some coldhearted decision where I hated him and he just showed up to support me. I was hoping for the best the whole time. And that went through the entire season.

I can hear the naysayers now: I was filming a reality show, but deceiving people. Wel , I honestly never felt that, because number one, the show is not A&E's Intervention Intervention. It's not a show that claims to help people. Just like my act is given to exaggeration, the show films heightened comedic experiences in my life. My first responsibility is to make people laugh, and a show where I'm crying or hashing out serious problems in my marriage with my husband is not what an audience signs on for. It's not Breaking Bonaduce Breaking Bonaduce.

Wel , as filming on season two came to a close, things hadn't been very good between us. We hadn't been getting along, and we were both starting to realize it wasn't going to work out. Pessimism was final y settling in with me. Matt seemed emotional y out the door. But a part of me stil saw him the same way I did the first day we met, or the day he proposed, or the day we had some other great time together.

We had our wrap party for season two in Vegas, because we'd been shooting my appearance at a very D-listy casino outside of the city. Matt was there and when it came time to make the party happen, he was at the height of his greatness. He got al the food and the booze, and when people started showing up in my suite, he was a wonderful host, making people laugh, tel ing stories, and I was proud to be with him. It was the guy I'd said yes to on that beach in Mexico.