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.
Beneath the muted hum of Jackson County, Missouri, a marriage’s slow collapse found its voice on February 10, 2025, just four days before Valentine’s Day could drape its fleeting charm over the wreckage. Rhonda D. Burns, a 61-year resident of this state, filed for divorce from William M. Burns in the Family Court Division, ending a union that stretched back to September 17, 2005. With Tyler J. Jansen of Kelly, Reed & Jansen, LLC, by her side, Rhonda’s petition unfolded like a stark tableau—nineteen years of shared life unraveling since William walked out on January 19, 2025, his whereabouts now a mystery.
Both Missourians, rooted here for decades—she for 61 years, he for 65—they’d built something tangible: property, debts, a history. No children bridged their divide, no pregnancy lingered—just Rhonda, standing alone, pleading for maintenance from a man she called able-bodied and employed, while her own resources dwindled. The marriage, she declared, was irretrievably broken, a truth etched in the separation that left her in their Kansas City home. She asked the court to bless any settlement they might scrape together—or, failing that, to split their assets and obligations with an even hand.
This filing, stark against Valentine’s looming glow, wasn’t a romance undone by passion’s flicker—it was a ledger closing, a woman’s measured claim for survival in the shadow of a love long faded.
Please contact VowBreakers for access to documents related to the case.
