Disclaimer: All facts gleaned from the filings stated hereafter are only as truthful as the petitioner. The tone of this article expresses a style of writing historically employed by America’s greatest writers and, as such, is for opinion purposes only. No intentional harm is due. Do not read if the topic of divorce (even your own) causes you emotional distress. Continue at your own risk.
In the gray shadow of February, where love’s embers should glow, Anita Hawke struck a flint against her sixteen-year union with Benjamin Hawke. On February 21, 2025, just days after the hollow cheer of Valentine’s day, she filed for divorce in Cook County’s courthouse, a cold place for a colder end. The petition, sharp and deliberate, came through her attorney from Bradford & Gordon LLC, who laid out the irreconcilable rift that had grown between them, a chasm too wide for mending. Married in the crisp September of 2008 in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, they’d built a life—two children, Grant and Serena, now thirteen and ten—yet the years had worn their bond to dust.
Anita, forty-two, taught for Chicago’s schools, while Benjamin, forty, worked the steel-and-glass world of Jones Lang LaSalle. Both rooted in Cook County, they’d lived there long enough to call it home, but home had soured. She claimed no fault, just differences that broke them, irretrievable and final. The kids, she said, needed her steady hand for decisions—health, school, faith—and most of their time. Maintenance, too, she sought from Benjamin, his income a lifeline she lacked. Property, debts, fees—all to be split or shouldered, a ledger of their unraveling.
The filing cut sharp against the month’s romance, a stark line drawn in winter’s fading light. What began in Wisconsin’s autumn faded in Illinois’ chill, and now the court would decide the rest.
Please contact VowBreakers for access to documents related to the case.
