IngaBinga
TUG Member
- Joined
- Jan 28, 2026
- Messages
- 5
- Reaction score
- 10
- Location
- Los Ángeles Area, California
- Resorts Owned
- SVC transferred to Wyndham in 2012
It is cathartic to be able to voice this, as it feels like I have been holding my breath all these years.
It was the beginning of a perfect storm.
My husband was shot and killed in our home in October of 2005. In the aftermath, I found myself navigating detectives, private investigators, and endless questions as I tried to understand what had happened. I was depressed, overwhelmed, and utterly bewildered. My life was unraveling at the seams, and I was desperately searching for some form of escape—any relief from the chaos and grief consuming me.
In 2006, longing to get away from everything I was going through, I began thinking about travel—leaving, going somewhere, putting distance between myself and the pain. During a visit to Pasadena, California, I ended up signing up with Shell Vacations.
Pasadena was where I had been raised, and returning there stirred deep nostalgia. In my emotional state—grieving, vulnerable, and desperate for relief—I was easy prey. It was the beginning of the first perfect storm.
I enrolled in Shell Vacations, driven by the hope that travel might help me escape the weight of my problems. Meanwhile, life continued to unravel. I was working full time while still trying to uncover the truth about my husband’s death. Then, in 2008, the financial crisis struck. I lost my home in Venice during the real estate collapse and found myself upside down and facing foreclosure.
I struggled to stay afloat. Thankfully, a condo I owned and had been renting out became available, and in 2012, I was able to move into it. Had I not owned that condo, I would quite literally have been on the street. It took six months to wrap up and close the Venice house, and after settling my late husband’s affairs, I was financially drained.
Travel was the furthest thing from my reality—let alone my mind.
During this same period, my younger brother suffered a stroke and came to live with me, adding yet another layer of responsibility and emotional strain.
After 2012, I believe my daughter may have used the timeshare once. As for me, personal travel was placed firmly on the back burner. I had far bigger fish to fry—namely, surviving.
In August of 2012, after the foreclosure, I officially moved into my condo in Mar Vista. By that time, I had entered a new relationship, and my life partner and my brother both moved in with me.
Around this time, I began researching—half-heartedly, I must admit—ways to get rid of the timeshare. Part of me still clung to the idea that I might one day use it. It was very much a case of “the best-laid plans of mice and men”—or women, depending on one’s state of mind. In the meantime, I continued paying the maintenance fees, which increased steadily year after year.
Eventually, I came to recognize that I was living with unresolved PTSD—from my husband’s violent death, the loss of the home I loved, and the accumulation of traumas that had never truly been addressed.
It was then that I decided to change direction.
I returned to school after realizing that the absence of a bachelor’s degree had quietly limited my employment opportunities. I enrolled at Grand Canyon University, and in 2018, I graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology, with honors—Summa Cum Laude.
I was 71 years old.
While all of this was unfolding, I had taken on the responsibility of caring for—and actively assisting—two elderly “aunties,” one who lived in Hawaii and the other in Pasadena. In 2011, I brought my Hawaii aunt to Pasadena so she could live with her sister. She passed away in 2016 at the age of 99, after which I assumed full responsibility for her sister’s care. She passed in 2021 at the age of 97.
During the three years leading up to her death, I managed the difficult process of transitioning her into assisted living, selling her home, and sorting through a lifetime of personal belongings. This period also coincided with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, which further complicated every aspect of daily life.
By this time, in September of 2019, I had entered into a contract with GC Getaways & Transfer Outlet, LLC to assist me in transferring and relinquishing my Shell Vacation Club timeshare. I was assured that the deed transfer would be completed within 180 days.
Adding further hardship, in November of 2019, I was diagnosed with Follicular Lymphoma. I had an inoperable tumor in my abdomen and was told I likely had approximately five years to live if the tumor continued to grow. Today, I remain under medical care. Although the tumor is still present, it has reduced somewhat following chemotherapy, allowing me a longer reprieve than originally anticipated.
The COVID years were a debacle. I continued working throughout that period, but after my aunt died in 2021, I semi-retired and made repeated attempts to contact GC Getaways in an effort to obtain updates and documentation regarding my timeshare transfer. Despite numerous attempts, I received no meaningful response.
Ultimately, I discovered that I had been defrauded of approximately $9,000. No transfer was completed. No deed was recorded. No services promised under the contract were performed and somehow I had acquired a membership with ShorePointe Resorts.
P.S. The person who shot and killed my husband was never found, by the way.
It was the beginning of a perfect storm.
My husband was shot and killed in our home in October of 2005. In the aftermath, I found myself navigating detectives, private investigators, and endless questions as I tried to understand what had happened. I was depressed, overwhelmed, and utterly bewildered. My life was unraveling at the seams, and I was desperately searching for some form of escape—any relief from the chaos and grief consuming me.
In 2006, longing to get away from everything I was going through, I began thinking about travel—leaving, going somewhere, putting distance between myself and the pain. During a visit to Pasadena, California, I ended up signing up with Shell Vacations.
Pasadena was where I had been raised, and returning there stirred deep nostalgia. In my emotional state—grieving, vulnerable, and desperate for relief—I was easy prey. It was the beginning of the first perfect storm.
I enrolled in Shell Vacations, driven by the hope that travel might help me escape the weight of my problems. Meanwhile, life continued to unravel. I was working full time while still trying to uncover the truth about my husband’s death. Then, in 2008, the financial crisis struck. I lost my home in Venice during the real estate collapse and found myself upside down and facing foreclosure.
I struggled to stay afloat. Thankfully, a condo I owned and had been renting out became available, and in 2012, I was able to move into it. Had I not owned that condo, I would quite literally have been on the street. It took six months to wrap up and close the Venice house, and after settling my late husband’s affairs, I was financially drained.
Travel was the furthest thing from my reality—let alone my mind.
During this same period, my younger brother suffered a stroke and came to live with me, adding yet another layer of responsibility and emotional strain.
After 2012, I believe my daughter may have used the timeshare once. As for me, personal travel was placed firmly on the back burner. I had far bigger fish to fry—namely, surviving.
In August of 2012, after the foreclosure, I officially moved into my condo in Mar Vista. By that time, I had entered a new relationship, and my life partner and my brother both moved in with me.
Around this time, I began researching—half-heartedly, I must admit—ways to get rid of the timeshare. Part of me still clung to the idea that I might one day use it. It was very much a case of “the best-laid plans of mice and men”—or women, depending on one’s state of mind. In the meantime, I continued paying the maintenance fees, which increased steadily year after year.
Eventually, I came to recognize that I was living with unresolved PTSD—from my husband’s violent death, the loss of the home I loved, and the accumulation of traumas that had never truly been addressed.
It was then that I decided to change direction.
I returned to school after realizing that the absence of a bachelor’s degree had quietly limited my employment opportunities. I enrolled at Grand Canyon University, and in 2018, I graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Psychology, with honors—Summa Cum Laude.
I was 71 years old.
While all of this was unfolding, I had taken on the responsibility of caring for—and actively assisting—two elderly “aunties,” one who lived in Hawaii and the other in Pasadena. In 2011, I brought my Hawaii aunt to Pasadena so she could live with her sister. She passed away in 2016 at the age of 99, after which I assumed full responsibility for her sister’s care. She passed in 2021 at the age of 97.
During the three years leading up to her death, I managed the difficult process of transitioning her into assisted living, selling her home, and sorting through a lifetime of personal belongings. This period also coincided with the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic, which further complicated every aspect of daily life.
By this time, in September of 2019, I had entered into a contract with GC Getaways & Transfer Outlet, LLC to assist me in transferring and relinquishing my Shell Vacation Club timeshare. I was assured that the deed transfer would be completed within 180 days.
Adding further hardship, in November of 2019, I was diagnosed with Follicular Lymphoma. I had an inoperable tumor in my abdomen and was told I likely had approximately five years to live if the tumor continued to grow. Today, I remain under medical care. Although the tumor is still present, it has reduced somewhat following chemotherapy, allowing me a longer reprieve than originally anticipated.
The COVID years were a debacle. I continued working throughout that period, but after my aunt died in 2021, I semi-retired and made repeated attempts to contact GC Getaways in an effort to obtain updates and documentation regarding my timeshare transfer. Despite numerous attempts, I received no meaningful response.
Ultimately, I discovered that I had been defrauded of approximately $9,000. No transfer was completed. No deed was recorded. No services promised under the contract were performed and somehow I had acquired a membership with ShorePointe Resorts.
P.S. The person who shot and killed my husband was never found, by the way.
