Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are still caught in a contentious divorce dispute.
While details about the former couple are limited, sources have shared information with the media that sheds light on the disintegration of their marriage.
Among the notable voices is Krisann Morel, Jolie’s childhood nanny, who claims that the actress is vilifying Pitt and manipulating their children amid their ongoing battle.
Morel played a significant role in Jolie’s early life, reportedly forming a strong bond with Jolie’s mother, Marcheline Bertrand, who tragically passed away from cancer.
Morel gained public attention in 2010 when Andrew Morton released an unauthorized biography about Angelina Jolie. Unlike many anonymous sources in the book, Morel chose to speak on the record, providing an intimate look at Jolie’s challenging upbringing. Her narrative reveals a troubled childhood filled with painful experiences.
The turmoil began with the separation of Jolie’s parents, Marcheline Bertrand and Jon Voight, in 1976. Jolie was merely six months old when her father left the family for a young drama student, leaving a significant emotional void.
“Jon Voight was a terrible father to her at that time. He betrayed her mother, leaving Marcheline heartbroken,” Susan Margaret, a friend of Jolie’s, recounted in an interview.
“She confided in me that Jon emotionally abused her. Angelina faced many difficulties growing up due to the turmoil,” she added.
Bertrand sacrificed her own acting dreams to focus on nurturing Jolie and her older brother, James Haven Voight. During Angelina’s early years, they moved between various rented apartments in New York City.
“We weren’t poor, but there was an expectation that we had wealth because I was the child of an actor,” Angelina revealed in a 2002 interview.
However, the family’s financial difficulties were not the most challenging aspect of their lives. Morel indicated that Bertrand struggled with her feelings towards Jolie, as the young girl bore a striking resemblance to her father. This tension escalated to the point where Bertrand kept Jolie secluded in a separate apartment within their building for two years, attended to by a rotating team of caregivers.
“Angie was a very lonely and troubled child. Her mother became convinced that Jon was cheating even before she was born,” Morel shared with the Daily Mail in 2016.
This separate apartment was originally meant for Jon’s production company, but Jolie ended up living there with nannies while her mother avoided seeing her, staying three floors below. Occasionally, Bertrand would come upstairs to visit Morel, expressing her sorrow over her situation.“It broke my heart. It still upsets me. I really felt for that child,” Morel wrote in Angelina: An Unauthorized Biography.
Morel revealed that Angelina and her brother were largely raised by nannies and often found themselves caught in the middle of their mother’s struggles. According to Morel, Jolie was often weaponized against their father.
“Jon was depicted as the villain, and Marcheline successfully turned both children against him. But this led to years of pain and unresolved wounds that linger to this day,” Morel told the Daily Mail.
Following the disintegration of “Brangelina,” Morel feared that Angelina might repeat her mother’s mistakes with Pitt. She noted the disturbing parallels between Angelina’s current situation and her own difficult childhood, especially when Bertrand severed ties with Jon Voight.
Morel expressed her worries, stating, “I wish I could tell her, ‘Please don’t alienate Brad from the children’s lives. Don’t use them as weapons during your divorce. And don’t demonize your husband.’ Because that’s exactly what your mother did during her breakup with your father, resulting in a lonely and traumatic childhood for you. Why would you inflict that same tragedy on your kids?”
Current Situation
Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt have six children: three adopted (Pax, Maddox, and Zahara) and three biological (Shiloh, Vivienne, and Knox). Since their high-profile separation in 2016, the former power couple has been engaged in a complicated custody battle.
The court drama has been filled with ups and downs. Jolie initially held full custody until May 2021, when Pitt was awarded joint custody. However, this decision was overturned after Los Angeles Superior Court Judge John W. Ouderkirk, who ruled in Pitt’s favor, was removed from the case due to concerns regarding his impartiality.
Currently, Jolie has primary physical custody, while Pitt has scheduled “custodial time” with their minor children. Yet, a final resolution appears distant.
As recently as April, Jolie filed court papers in Los Angeles accusing Pitt of physical abuse—claims he has vehemently denied.
Reports indicate that one of their daughters, Vivienne, has chosen to drop “Pitt” from her last name, with her sister Shiloh also seeking a legal name change. Additionally, 19-year-old Zahara is reportedly using “Jolie” as her surname, and their eldest child, Maddox, 22, also doesn’t include “Pitt” in his name.
For Pitt, these name changes symbolize a deeper estrangement that has developed over the years. According to Little Things, this growing distance has had a profound emotional impact on him, with a source stating, “Brad was devastated by this choice.”
Further escalating the tension, his son Pax harshly criticized Pitt in a 2020 Instagram post that recently resurfaced. “You have made the lives of those closest to me a constant hell,” Pax allegedly wrote on his private account. “You may tell yourself and the world whatever you want, but the truth will come to light someday.” He concluded with, “So Happy Father’s Day, you f*****g awful human being.”
A Heartfelt Plea
Currently, Shiloh is the only child legally changing her name, but the overall sentiment seems clear: the children are aligning with their mother amid the ongoing discord between their parents.
Krisann Morel believes Angelina still grapples with abandonment issues, which manifest in her relationship with her children today.
“I don’t know Brad Pitt, but he seems like a decent person, and he resembles Jon, so this is a clear repetition of the past. Angie has no real understanding of what a normal family looks like. Brad does; he came from one,” she said in 2016.
“These kids have been through enough. Angie is attempting to sever their connection with their father just as her mother did with hers. There is so little stability for these children as they move around so much—she is threatening to take away the only stability they have.”
Animal Bones Started Appearing on My Doorstep — I Set Up a Security Camera to Find Out What It Meant
When animal bones started appearing on my doorstep, my husband dismissed it as a prank. But as they kept coming, fear crept in. I set up a hidden camera to catch the culprit, and what it revealed was far more chilling than I ever imagined.
At 34, what more could I ask for? I had a loving husband who still looked at me like I was his whole world and two beautiful children who filled our days with laughter and sticky kisses. Life was perfect until we moved into that house. George said it was a steal, but from day one, something felt wrong.
A house surrounded by trees | Source: Unsplash
The first week in the new house felt like wearing someone else’s shoes. Everything was just slightly off.
Our neighbors kept their distance, barely managing a nod when we waved. Even the kids seemed to hurry past our yard.
The streets felt eerily quiet like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.
An empty street | Source: Pexels
“They’re just not used to new faces,” George said, wrapping his arms around me as we watched another neighbor hurry past without a glance. “Give it time, Mary.”
“I don’t know, George. Something feels different here. Did you see Mrs. Peterson literally run inside when I tried to say hello? And the way Mr. Johnson shields his kids whenever they walk past our house?”
“Honey, you’re overthinking it. We left a tight-knit community. This is just an adjustment period. Remember how long it took us to feel at home in our old place?”
I wanted to believe him, but there was something eerie in the air here that made my skin crawl.
Side view of an anxious woman | Source: Midjourney
Our six-year-old daughter Emma refused to sleep in her new room, claiming she heard whispers in the walls. Our four-year-old son Tommy, who usually slept like a rock, kept waking up crying, begging to leave “the scary house.”
Then came that first morning. I stepped out to install our new mailbox, breathing in the crisp morning air, when I saw a neat pile of animal bones right on our doorstep.
They looked freshly cleaned, arranged in a deliberate circular pattern. My hands trembled as I dropped the mailbox with a clang.
A pile of animal bones arranged in a circular pattern on a doorstep | Source: Midjourney
“George!” I shrieked. “George, come here! Right now!”
He rushed out, still in his pajama pants, almost tripping over the doorframe. “What’s wrong, hon?” His face fell as he saw the bones. “Just neighborhood kids playing pranks. Has to be.”
“Kids? What kind of kids play with bones?” I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling suddenly cold despite the warm morning sun. “This isn’t normal, George. Nothing about this place is normal. First the neighbors, now this?”
A startled woman | Source: Midjourney
“Come on, let’s clean this up before Emma and Tommy see it,” he said, already reaching for the garden shovel. “We got a great deal on this house, Mary. Don’t let some stupid prank ruin it.”
“A great deal? Maybe there’s a reason for that.”
The next morning, more bones appeared. Larger ones this time, arranged in a perfect circle.
I stood at the door, coffee mug shaking in my hands, while George examined them. The morning dew made them glisten ominously in the early light.
A startled woman at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
“This isn’t funny anymore,” I said, pacing our kitchen. “We need to do something. What if the kids see these? What if they’re from something dangerous? I found Emma collecting them yesterday… she thinks they’re from a dinosaur!”
George ran his fingers through his hair, a habit when he’s worried. “Okay, okay. Let’s talk to the neighbors. Someone must know something. This has to stop.”
“I told Tommy not to play in the front yard anymore. What kind of mother tells her child that about their own home? I can’t keep them prisoners inside forever, George.”
A worried man | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, hey,” he pulled me close, his cologne failing to mask the worry in his voice. “We’ll figure this out. Together. Like we always do, okay?”
We spent the afternoon knocking on doors. Most people barely cracked them open, offering nothing but blank stares and quick head shakes.
One woman slammed the door in our faces when we mentioned our address. The sound echoed down the empty street like a gunshot.
A man ringing a doorbell | Source: Pexels
Then we met Hilton. He lived two houses down, in a weathered Victorian villa with overgrown bushes and peeling paint. Unlike the others, he opened his door wide and was almost eager to talk.
“Oh, you bought the Miller place?” His eyes grew wide, almost gleaming. “Shouldn’t have done that. That house… it’s not right.”
“What do you mean it’s not right?” I stepped closer, despite George’s warning hand on my arm.
A man staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
Hilton leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There’s something in that house. Something dark. The previous owner… he knew. That’s why he—” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“You should leave. While you can. Before it claims you too.”
“Mary, let’s go,” George tugged at my arm. “This guy’s just trying to scare us.”
“The bones will keep coming,” Hilton called after us. “They always do. They’re a warning! Get out of there before it’s too late.”
A terrified woman | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t sleep that night. George held me close, whispering reassurances, but nothing helped.
Emma had crawled into our bed around midnight, claiming she heard scratching in the walls. Tommy joined us an hour later, sobbing about scary shadows in his closet.
The next morning, we found a pile of bones in our fireplace. They were scattered across the hearth, some still warm to the touch, as if they’d been dropped down recently.
A pile of bones in a fireplace | Source: Midjourney
“That’s it,” I said, my hands shaking as I made coffee. “We’re putting up cameras. I don’t care what it costs. Someone is doing this, and we’re going to catch them.”
“Already ordered them,” George replied, showing me his phone. “They’ll be here tomorrow. Best rated online, with night vision and motion sensors. Nothing will get past these.”
“What if it’s really something supernatural?” I whispered, glancing at the kids eating breakfast. “What if Hilton’s right? What if there’s something wrong with this house?”
“Then we’ll deal with it,” George said firmly. “But first, we need proof of what’s actually happening. No more speculation, no more fear. We get facts.”
A terrified woman holding her face | Source: Midjourney
As we set up the hidden cameras behind the porch plants and on the tree in the backyard that night, George squeezed my hand. “Whatever this is, we’ll face it together. Like we always have.”
“Promise?” I asked, feeling like a scared child.
“Promise. Now let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll have answers.”
The next morning, I woke to more bones on the porch and immediately grabbed my phone. My hands trembled as I opened the security app.
A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Pexels
The footage was clear as day. Hilton, our concerned neighbor, was sneaking up our driveway at 3 a.m. and scattering bones from a cloth bag.
Another clip showed him on our roof, dropping more down the chimney. The timestamp showed 3:47 a.m., his face clearly visible in the infrared light.
“I’m calling the police,” George angrily said, grabbing his phone. “That sick moron’s been terrorizing our family. All his talk about the house being cursed… he was just trying to scare us away!”
A man holding a bag of animal bones | Source: Midjourney
When the officers arrived and arrested Hilton, his wife broke down in tears.
“He’s obsessed,” she sobbed, seeing the footage on my phone. “The previous owner, Mr. Miller, told him about some treasure before he died. Hilton’s been having dreams about it. He thought if he scared you away—”
“A treasure?” I almost laughed. “He traumatized my family over a treasure? My kids haven’t slept well through the night in weeks!”
“He needs help,” his wife gasped. “He hasn’t been the same since Mr. Miller died. The talk of treasure consumed him.”
A stunned woman seeing a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
After Hilton was arrested, we decided to check the basement ourselves. George led the way with a flashlight, while I followed close behind.
“Stay close to me,” he said, testing each step on the old stairs. “Some of these boards look pretty worn.”
The basement was exactly what you’d expect — dark, musty, and full of cobwebs.
To our surprise, we found a wooden chest under a loose floorboard, just where Hilton had suspected. Inside weren’t gold bars or precious gems, but old copper candlesticks and vintage jewelry, tarnished with age but still beautiful.
Antique items in a wooden chest | Source: Midjourney
“They’re family heirlooms,” the previous owner’s daughter explained when we called her. “Dad was always talking about them, but we thought he was confused in his final days. They belong in a museum. Thank you for finding them.”
That night, George and I sat on our porch swing, watching the stars. Emma and Tommy were finally sleeping peacefully in their rooms, the house quiet except for the gentle creaking of the swing.
“Can you believe all this?” I asked, leaning into his warmth. “A grown man playing ghost with animal bones, all for what? Some old candlesticks and antique jewelry?”
“People do crazy things for money, honey. But hey, at least we know our house isn’t haunted!”
A woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
I laughed, finally feeling at home. “No, just visited by a bone-scattering neighbor with treasure fever!”
“Who’s safely behind bars now,” George added, pulling me closer. “And our kids can play in the yard again. That’s what matters.”
As George and I were getting ready for bed, we heard that familiar scratching sound in the walls. But this time, instead of fear, I was curious. Following the noise, we found an orange tabby cat slipping through Emma’s open window, purring contentedly.
“Well, would you look at that!” George chuckled, watching the cat make himself at home on the table.
A tabby cat | Source: Unsplash
I squeezed George’s hand, remembering all those sleepless nights. “So this is what was keeping our kids up? A neighbor’s cat?”
“Looks like we solved the last mystery of the house!” he said, wrapping an arm around me.
Sometimes I still check our doorstep first thing in the morning, just in case. Old habits die hard, I guess. But now when I look at our house, I don’t see a mistake or a source of fear. I see home, complete with our occasional feline visitor, who’s always more welcome than bone-scattering neighbors.
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