Victim Speaks Out After Testifying Against Portuguese Kids Comedian Who Stalked Her, Broke Into Her Home, Stole Sex Toy, Wrote Erotic Sex Novel

 

Editor’s Note: We discussed this story on the Live Show (1:07:40) and the victim joined us to talk about her experience.

Two years we published a blog about a Fall River man named Albert Sardinha, who was a member of the dad joke comedy group Portuguese kids, after he was arrested and charged with breaking into a woman’s house in Freetown (who he went on one date with) and stealing her vibrator. The woman actually caught him in the act and he told her he was there for closure, despite never being intimate with this woman or having any sort of serious relationship.

 

Because he’s a Portuguese guy in Fall River the community just assumed that he was not guilty. Most people in the comments section of the Herald News Facebook page predicted his exoneration and accused the victim of lying for money.

 

I forgot about this story because it happened right before COVID started, but last week the victim reached out to me to let me know that there was a trial, she testified, and he was found guilty and sentenced to 30 days in jail.

At the time she was a single mother putting herself through law school, and I can confirm that she is much younger and better looking than him. She tells me that when it all went down it was hard for her to read all the negative things people were saying about her, so she appreciated our defense of her in the blog. Now that it was over she wanted to tell her side of the story with never before seen messages and evidence included at trial. Everything from this point on is the victim’s words.

 

Two and a half years ago I had a series of incidents with a stalker. You sometimes hear the word “stalker” used as a joke, but this wasn’t a joke. It was incredibly scary, and always will be.

In late December of 2019, I received a Facebook message from a man with many mutual friends; so many, that when he said “hello,” I asked if I knew him. He indicated that I might know him, or know of him, because he was a member of a very popular comedy group that is well-known in my area. I knew of the group, they do parody skits to playfully mock their Portuguese heritage. I don’t understand the cultural references, but they’re funny men nonetheless.

The conversation transpired into flirting and eventually discussing dating. It went on for weeks, daily, most of the day. We were both very interested and it was exciting. He was sweet, charming, funny, intelligent, respectful, and engaged in conversation. He was super articulate, sending very long texts, (multiple in a row,) and I appreciated his level of engagement and attention.

A few months prior, I had my heart broken. I was vulnerable and insecure. This new affection was flattering. I was surprised to have even met someone that was interested. As a single mother, paralegal, small business owner, and part-time law student, I had no opportunities to really meet anyone. Had I met someone, I had no time for them. I was lonely.

This new prospect was exciting and lead to weeks of texts getting to know each other. I had even reached out to a few of our mutual friends seeking character references. Unanimously, they all said he was a great guy. That was unsurprising- he seemed like a great guy.

A couple weeks in, we went on a date. The night before we were speaking on the phone when I fell asleep. He told me that he listened to me snore and whispered to me, which should have been a red flag.

 

 

He had planned a super-fun night and provided me a thoughtful itinerary. The level of attention to detail was refreshing. He offered to pick me up and I accepted – why wouldn’t I? He had glowing character references from my professional colleagues and he’s a well-known community figure. The gentleman is supposed to pick up the lady, right? If he was a serial killer he could find out where I lived regardless.

It was a good date. Dinner and axe throwing. He had even noted my favorite beer in conversations and packed beer and a ton of limes, remembering that I told him I love limes. (I still can’t believe you can BYOB to throw weapons… only in America). There was a big problem though – I wasn’t attracted to him. He didn’t look like his pictures. He was approximately 60 pounds heavier and 2 feet shorter than he appeared in his photos. But most obviously, he looked a lot older. It became very evident that he had 16 years on me. I wondered if people thought he was my father.

I kept telling myself that looks don’t matter. I was being shallow. I’m not a supermodel myself. What’s on the inside matters, right? Looks don’t last forever anyways- this man was a good man. He didn’t mind my impossible schedule and that I didn’t have much to offer in a relationship. He also knew a lot about me. I disclosed my flaws at the beginning, making the baggage I came with clear, and he accepted all of it. Weeks of texting about every personal detail of my life that would later be tossed on the clerk’s desk by his attorney and examined by total strangers during the jury’s deliberation.

I was trying to overcome the obstacle of physical attraction and hyper-projection of my own insecurities. Everything else about him was wonderful. His effort showed and it was appreciated and reciprocated. He engaged thoughtfully. I’d say “I have a headache” and he would offer to bring me ibuprofen at work. I’d say “I’m tired” and he would offer to bring me coffee. Perhaps these were red flags in the making but they seemed incredibly sweet and romantic at the time.

I kept telling myself “it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” So I agreed to a second date, he offered to cook me dinner at his house. I ended up blowing that date off, and several others thereafter, with lame excuses each time. I just couldn’t get over the lack of attraction. The constant texting, the paragraphs upon paragraphs, texts so long that they exceed the iMessage character limit and come in as attachments; they weren’t so cute when I was no longer into it. They had actually become overwhelmingly repulsive.

I planned to let him down easy. He was super nice and I had gotten his hopes up. I slowed down the texting but didn’t stop. I lead him on – there’s no way around it. On one particular afternoon, the conversation became sexual in nature. It was fairly unexpected. I had ignored him all day and when he had inquired why I said “Busy day, about to hop into the shower” and he responded by thanking me for the visual of the steamy beads of water rolling down my naked body. It was so cringey and uncharacteristic of him. I said “that was too much,” followed by, “Excellent writing, though. You could totally be an erotic author.” I intended the compliment to soften the blow. He took it very, very literally.

An hour later I received a text entitled “CHAPTER 1.” He wrote the first chapter of an erotic novel… about me. It was borderline soft core pornography, incredibly graphic and distributing. He used the word “crevices.” It would later be read aloud and mocked by my entire friend group because it was just that outrageous.

That was it. I now had something to cling to to let him down easy – rather than “I’m not attracted to you” I focused on “I’m not comfortable.”

I told him I was uncomfortable, and this was all just too much. Apology after apology, I started to feel badly for the guy. Apparently he misinterpreted my half-joke about writing erotica very literally, and he misinterpreted “that’s too much” as if I was playfully saying “you’re too much.” I embarrassed him entirely. He had been a perfect gentlemen up to that point and apologized profusely, begging for me to forgive the misunderstanding. He said he didn’t want to ruin what we had based one one text message (novel). But we didn’t have anything, really, and it wasn’t just the text message. I was starting to be repulsed by him, but I couldn’t tell him that. That’s so mean and he was literally so nice. I should have respected my boundaries. He certainly didn’t.

I had lead him on long past when I decided I wasn’t interested, initially due to vulnerability and liking the attention, and later out of guilt. I was feeling guilty, both for leading him on and being shallow about his appearance.

I finally called him to end it. I did what I would want someone to do that I really liked that had texted me 24/7 for weeks – I gave a full explanation. I didn’t want to ghost him. I’ve been ghosted and it feels like crap. I didn’t mention his appearance, I told him that I wasn’t healed from my former heartbreak, I was too busy, it was moving too quickly, the length and volume of texts was too overwhelming, and that I regret the timing because he is an amazing guy. I told him “my loss.” It was so painfully awkward.

But he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. He said he had never felt such a connection, and he’ll never forgive himself if he gives up. He bombarded me with compliments and praise. He said he’ll accommodate my crazy schedule, offering patience and understanding. He teared up and practically begged me. At that point, I finally said “enough is enough”. What should have been a 10 minute phone call was approaching an hour, and I had more-than fulfilled any obligation to a man I went out with once.

Instead of accepting or respecting my reasoning, he sent me more essay-length texts about what he thought my reasoning was. It was wild, filled with suppositions about what I wanted, what I needed, and how I felt. It contained accusations of there being someone else.

I rejected his made up story and re-summarized my thoughts from the phone call. Basically, a bunch of, “it’s not you it’s me” but with more eloquent elaboration.

The next day he begged me to meet him in person for “closure” and then I got rude. I didn’t owe closure to a man I went on one date with and I was so uncomfortable at this point. I had stopped reading his text message novels (pun-intended), and I had already ended it, more than once. He was guilting me and being skillfully manipulative. I had already ended it respectfully and apologized countless times for leading him on. I unfriended him on social media and made it clear that I wasn’t responding to any further efforts to reach out.

 

 

About a week later in early January, I was outside of my work on lunch break. I had quit smoking, and then I had quit quitting, so I was quite literally squatting on ground beside my car smoking a cigarette, hiding from my colleagues who had so highly-praised me for quitting. A car pulled up directly behind mine, and I stood up to see it was him. This was particularly strange. It’s a small, private lot, with only a handful of spaces, all occupied. It’s on a congested one way in the city – it’s not possible to pull in to make a turn. What was he doing there!? He looked at me and drove away. Weird.

I got a little freaked out. There was no explanation for what had happened. I went inside and told a colleague everything. Just as I was explaining, I received a snap chat from him, saying “I’m sure I saw you on a phone call…. didn’t want to seem rude by not acknowledging you… don’t want to be a bother or intrude on your privacy.” Ironic.

It was interesting that he sent a snap chat because we didn’t talk that way. A snap can’t be captured via screen shot without notifying the sender. I actually took a picture of the phone with my ipad though, so I could recount this strange occurrence to friends. This one was definitely a  gleaming red flag.

Two days after that, my classmate in law school ran out of class abruptly, insisting she saw him in the hallway of the school. She knew the comedy group, and insisted it was positively him. She was aware of our entire history and the weird encounter in the parking lot at my work… so I thought it was all getting to her head. I didn’t believe her. It wasn’t possible that a non-student got past security and was roaming the hallways of a law school at 8 pm. Why would he do that anyways? She was concerned and insistent. I told her I didn’t want to hear another word of it. She was freaking me out. I hadn’t talked to him in weeks, and I thought he finally got the hint. This was our last conversation prior to January 22.

On January 22, nearly a month after our only date, and a week after the day he was at my work, I left work at 10:30 am because I was sick. I went home, I sat in my driveway with the heat on full blast in my car because I had a fever for ten to fifteen minutes. Eventually, I made my way into my house, a 3 family unit. I walked sluggishly up the stairs balancing my briefcase, lunchbox, and iPad.

When I got to my door, he was inside my apartment.

It was so surreal. The first thing he said was “I know I shouldn’t be here.” I said, “In someone’s house? Yeah, you do know that you shouldn’t be here. What are you doing?” I walked down the stairs toward my neighbor’s door, getting close enough that if I screamed, it would be heard. I didn’t know if it was a dangerous situation. I just couldn’t believe what was happening.

He explained that he had just left a funeral and was “feeling emotional and wanted closure.” He didn’t like the way things ended and didn’t understand. I listened while he talked, fumbling in my bag to get my phone to try to inconspicuously take a video, which I did – I would later watch it on the rolling TV alongside the jury at trial.

Then it hit me – all of it. I had ended this many times. He was at my work last week. Maybe it was him in the hallway at my school. He just broke into my house. He has 2 large bags filled with stuff. I can see wires. Where is his car!? He didn’t park in my driveway. If I pull out my phone to call 911 is he going to stop me? If I scream is he going to cover my mouth?

I started to cry hysterically, and he fled. From the hallway window, I photographed him running past my driveway, down the road, and down a side street. I ran outside and called 911. This was like a Lifetime movie.

The police arrived and at that point I was crying and hyperventilating inconsolably. I was vomiting – half because I was sick and half because I was so freaked out. I couldn’t believe what happened. My son and I aren’t safe here. I overpaid for this tiny attic apartment to keep him in a good school district. Where were we going to go? What were we going to do?

A text came in from him while the police were there, explaining he was there for closure and to leave a note. He never left a note. You would think, if he had a note, he would have handed it to me to give him any plausible explanation for his presence in my home.

The cops went upstairs with me and looked around. They also had me look around to make sure nothing was out of place. I don’t have anything valuable and the TV was still on the wall. It was when they told me to check my underwear draw that I really got upset. My mind hadn’t even gone there.

It turns out that something was missing. I wasn’t willing to report it, though. It was an intimate item far too embarrassing to report. But it doesn’t work that way – you don’t get to say “I don’t want the Commonwealth of Massachusetts to hide the fact that a larceny occurred because I’m embarrassed.” You don’t get to say “I want to practice in this court one day and I don’t want everyone to forever associate me with the comedian vibrator burglar.”

I was accompanied to court to get a restraining order. I wouldn’t stay at my house for days. I told my son there was an electrical problem. My landlord installed a lock on the outer door. A friend installed a deadbolt on my apartment, because the police had advised me that a regular lock could be broken into easily with a credit card. I had the place searched for cameras and had cameras installed inside, too. I got pepper spray and a door alarm. I’ll forever live this way.

The security footage from the school confirms his presence at the time my friend saw him in the hallway.

I’ll never know what his plan was at my work that day, at my school that night, or in my home that afternoon. I’ll never know what he was doing in my apartment other than taking a personal item that doesn’t require multiple bags with wires. Maybe he was retrieving camera equipment that he had put there previously? Like an idiot, I had my wifi password on a little chalk sign. These unanswered questions will forever haunt me and creep me out.

When he was finally found and arrested, he still insisted that he was there to leave a note. He said he parked down a side street and carried large bags down the road to leave a note.

Because this man is well-known with the comedy group, this story was all over the news. They were all kind enough to leave my name out. But, I watched thousands of his fans call me a “liar,” “gold-digger” and other derogatory things on social media. It’s wild that because he’s Portuguese and funny people think he can’t be a creep, even though a few other women commented about similar experiences with him.

Even some of my own friends participated in the victim-bashing, not knowing I was the woman. The articles were shared in local groups on social media, and the comedy group announced his temporary break from performance, asserting their confidence that he was innocent and the truth would prevail. It was a whole lot of victim shaming. It was gross. I feel really badly for victims. Many are victimized far worse than I was, but absent proof they aren’t believed.

I stayed scared and silent for years and agonized having to testify trial about the nature of the “relationship” and what was stolen. How embarrassing. I pride myself in being a professional, and it’s hard enough to be taken seriously as a woman in the legal field. People regularly assumed I had my job only because I was sleeping with someone, and now I would be associated with a salacious story about a wannabe celebrity. I know a lot of the court personnel and knew the trial would undoubtedly be as traumatizing as the incident itself.

The case and my anxiety continued for years as multiple changes of defense counsel and COVID caused further delays. I wondered why he wouldn’t plea it out – the footage of him there was attached to the police report. It was a clear breaking and entering. Did he think I was going to drop it because I was embarrassed? I wasn’t going to drop it.

The trial was as emotionally dreadful as I anticipated. His attorney was a “zealous advocate” which is the polite way to say insensitively crude. Ironically, I went to law school to pursue criminal defense, and changed courses after this experience. I will never use my law degree to tear apart a victim for hours the way that I was on the stand by that attorney. With overwhelming evidence against his client and not much to grab onto, he resorted to having me read embarrassing and personal text messages aloud to the jury. I struggled to maintain myself so I didn’t appear over-dramatic but I’ve never been so mortified.

In his relentless line of questioning, the defense tried to establish a relationship between us, which you can’t establish out of one date. No relationship existed, and if it had, it certainly doesn’t justify a home break-in and larceny. He tried to destroy my credibility noting my inconsistent use of the words “walked” and “ran.” He suggested that my emotional nature during questioning was artificial. He portrayed his client as a hopeless romantic and me as the jerk who lead him on.

The stalker took the stand and gave a real performance like the actor that he is; testifying that he never broke into my house, but instead was there for a while writing and editing a note that he intended to leave. He also admitted that he parked down the road so I wouldn’t know he was there.  His explanations didn’t make sense.

His testimony was so rehearsed that in the over 10k text messages exchanged, he could recall the exact messages he was being asked about by the prosecution. His answers, like his texts, were long and drawn-out.

Thankfully, the jury saw through this. They found him guilty on breaking and entering. They found him not guilty on larceny, being that he was never caught with what he stole and no concrete proof exists. It’s crazy to think that he probably still has it.

He was sentenced 30 days in jail, despite his otherwise clean record. With so much of the evidence being excluded due to the court rules, I was pleasantly surprised to hear the jury report “Guilty.” With this conviction, I should never have a problem extending the restraining order.

After the guilty finding, I got to make a victim’s statement and tell the court exactly how this incident effected me. I got to speak after years of silence, and he and his family had to hear it. Then, he was taken away in handcuffs.

Thanks to the media he’ll be less likely to be able to stalk another woman. When you Google his name, the first several results are about this incident. So despite the embarrassment, I’m thankful that he’ll be less likely to victimize someone else.

You can never be too careful dating. Don’t share personal information with a stranger. Meet at a public place when you date. Don’t post your location and tag yourself places on social media. Don’t share your wifi password. Make sure you have a deadbolt, as regular door knobs can be easily manipulated with a credit card. Most importantly, trust your boundaries. Sometimes, we’re too afraid of being called a “bitch” to assert ourselves as necessary.

Thanks to the victim for sharing all this, it was pretty eye opening. I’m sure if you read all my text messages from prior relationships I’d be embarrassed of some of the cringe things I said, but I’m quite confident I’ve never been this pathetic. There is no way this is the first woman he’s done this to either. He’s the kind of guy who convinces himself that he’s the nice chubby guy, who once you get to know him you’ll realize what a catch he is. But the problem isn’t just how he looks, it’s that he’s just not that interesting. Also, no woman wants a guy who’s THAT in touch with his feelings. Relax dude. 

I blame TV and movies. I grew up watching Family Matters, and Steve Urkel was the protagonist. Every single episode he asked out Laura Winslow or tried to kiss her and she said no. They had us convinced that he was the good guy with the heart of gold, and every other guy Laura dated didn’t love her the way Urkel did. But when you look back at it he was actually extremely creepy and she probably should’ve gotten an order on him. Too many men think they’re Steve Urkel, and that if they keep trying then one day she’s gonna snap out of it and realize that he’s the love of her life. This guy wanted to “end things” with her in person because he can’t control her when she’s on the phone. At any moment she could just hang up or not respond. He was a nice guy, she OWED him that. 

The Portuguese Kids and every single person who smeared this woman owes her a public apology.