My two older girls married biological brothers in an IFB church that their little family cult took over. The cult thing is hindsight, though at the time I wasn't excited about my girls' choices, and the knot of toads they married into knew it.
I came to refer to the matriarch quite openly and accurately as the Swollen Toad Queen of Narcissus.
After a particularly traumatic event in which I could have had the kids arrested, there became something of a feud, because I refused to allow my youngest to have any contact with them.
There was another ruckus in which I was the one arrested and charged with domestic violence because it involved my son in law. (Handcuffed, paddy wagon, jail, mugshot, printed, booked...the works.) A humorous aside, someone had scratched into the wall of the wagon, I didn't choose the thug life, it chose me.
Just so you know, I prevailed in the state and municipal trials. I have a clean record, and I'm licensed to carry concealed firearms.
In all this strife, their ecclesiastical inbred little cult hired a youth pastor who turned out to be a registered sex offender for oral copulation with a thirteen yr old girl. He began an affair with one of the toads, and this is where you go, huh? This chick has AIDS, needs a lung transplant, and is an emaciated bag of bones on oxygen in a wheelchair.
She survived COVID (Why, God?) but I digress....
The perv left his wife, married the hag, and lives with my oldest daughter and her kids.
Needless to say, these events magnified the defects in my already bad match, and in no small part contributed to its dissolution.