#Nate newton weight series

He held the barrel in place for a moment, observing her fear, then shifted it just a few inches to the right.

Nate seized the rifle and leveled it right between his wife’s eyes. The thick, glass tabletop jarred loose and slammed onto the floor, grazing her stomach.ĭorothy erupted in anger. Nate shouted again, then grabbed the table and shoved it toward his wife. Then she spotted the rifle lying on the counter. “What the fuck are you doing?” he shouted.ĭorothy sat down stiffly at the kitchen table, bracing for a lengthy rant. Then, strangely calm, she stepped inside. Stay in the car till I come and get you, she told Tré. She knew Nate would never hurt Tré - or would he? She arrived in the afternoon at their home, set on six wooded acres where no one around them could see or hear anything. So she left Ingrid that day in 1997 and drove to Argyle, in Denton County, her son Tré beside her. Assuming Dorothy was responsible, he ordered her to come home - or he would kill her. Someone had informed the Cowboys organization about Nate’s personal “business,” and he was enraged. This time, Dorothy had finally decided to leave Dallas Cowboys superstar Nate Newton. But he also shoved her, choked her and kicked her, all 325 pounds of him, sometimes leaving her on the floor, beaten so badly she was unable to move. The words, in fact, cut deeper than anything. The verbal abuse was relentless, with every sentence containing a barrage of B’s and F’s. Not her family in Louisiana, not her friends. Dorothy always stood by her famous husband’s side, but she paid for it dearly in private.

#Nate newton weight series

And the latest in a series of women who’d emerge, claiming they’d been fondled or assaulted or just jilted. And the drinking, the clubbing, the DUIs. There were the inevitable setbacks on the field, even in the midst of a record-breaking, three-Super Bowl run. No one knew the breadth of the abuse she endured, in a sick cycle that hewed to her husband’s ups and downs as an athlete and celebrity. Of course it made no sense, looking in from the outside.

“You should not go back there,” she implored her.

Ingrid was scared for her friend but too tense to cry. In another room, Tré, Dorothy’s 8-year-old, played with Ingrid’s twin boys. If anything happens to me, she told her, you must promise you will raise Tré. It named her killer.Īn emotional mess but still lucid, Newton pressed her friend Ingrid Ford for a promise. So first, she stopped at her best friend’s house and drafted a letter to secret away, to open in the event of her murder. The sense of doom forced a frigid clarity of mind. Dorothy Newton knew she and her unborn child were going to die.