Heather Thomas, who turned 66 on September 8, was well-known for her leading part opposite Lee Majors in The Fall Guy and was expected to have a very successful Hollywood career.
However, the stunning blonde hurried to the hospital, thinking her father had an emergency, when the actor’s mother appeared on set during the filming of the show’s conclusion.
She was informed by her relatives and friends who met her at the Santa Monica hospital that her father, Leon, was doing well and that they were worried about her.
This was only the start of a new adventure for the 28-year-old woman, whose job and personal life had totally changed as a result of her hospital stay.
Discover what became of the 1980s pinup girl by continuing to read!
With a natural beauty and ability comparable to that of Farrah Fawcett and Heather Locklear, Heather Thomas pursued her passion.
When the girl was just 14 years old, she presented the talk show Talking with a Giant on NBC, where she and four other teenagers conducted celebrity interviews.
Thomas, now 66, studied theater and cinema at UCLA with the goal of advancing her career as an actor, director, and writer. The year before she graduated, she made an appearance in the short-lived comedy series Co-Ed Fever (1979).
The Connecticut-born performer landed her first major part in 1980 in the television series The Fall Guy, supporting Lee Majors, who became well-known throughout the world in the 1970s for his portrayal of Steven Austin in The Six Million Dollar Man.
As the popular action show’s stuntwoman-bounty hunter Jody Banks, Thomas was adored by men who saw her as a sex symbol—a label about which she acknowledges she feels conflicted.
Thomas told People that there was “obligatory condescension that goes with that.” “The blonde bimbo is a stereotype that you fit into. But I was simply enjoying myself at the moment.
Regretfully, she was enjoying herself excessively when using drugs, a tendency that predates her portrayal of Jody Banks.
Her history with drugs began in the sixth grade, when she began abusing narcotics to keep her grades at the top. “I was taking acid and getting straight As,” Thomas declared. I simply believed it to be mind-blowing.
Her drug use changed as her mentality matured from that of a child to an adult.
Thomas began taking cocaine while she was a student at UCLA, and her drug use worsened in 1981, a year after she started filming The Fall Guy.
Additionally, the 5-foot-7 Thomas developed an obsession with weight and began taking Lasix, a diuretic that may produce extreme sleepiness, feeling as though she had to live up to her reputation as a sex symbol.
She took additional cocaine to give her an energy boost in order to combat the sluggishness.
“At first, I was still getting used to the medicine. I thought I was receiving a good deal on my purchase. She asserted that she had never used cocaine on site and that it had allowed her to work through the night. It is not permitted to use cocaine on sets. It’s no longer clubby to carry it out. It’s merely a personal torment.
A person close to the performer told People that her drug usage was hurting her career, despite her statements to the contrary. According to the source, “word was out on Heather.” “People were aware of her issue.”
Between takes, Thomas’s weight plummeted from 125 to 105 pounds and he was fast asleep. Thomas said, “I was in a minicoma sometimes.”
Subsequently, she fainted in front of Majors, who subsequently contacted her manager and her mother.
Her mother, Gladdy Ryder, a former special education teacher, showed up on the set of The Fall Guy to tell her daughter that her father was in the hospital after the series finale concluded.
The writer of “Trophies” hurried to St. John’s Hospital, where she was welcomed by relatives and friends who were prepared to have her admitted into the three-week drug program.
Thomas remarked of that day, “It was a big relief to me.” She also mentioned that she had pneumonia, scarred lungs, and swollen kidneys when she checked into detox. “I wanted to get off the roller coaster I’d been on.” I most likely would have continued on my merry way till I lost my job or passed away if my family hadn’t stepped in.
“The doctors said I should have died three years ago,” she continued.
Thomas, who was dedicated to her recovery, surrounded herself with people who shared her values and would help her achieve her drug-free objectives. That’s when Allan Rosenthal, a co-founder of Cocaine Anonymous, and 28-year-old Thomas first met. She later got married to him and filed for divorce in September 1986.
She was hit by a car while crossing the street that same month, severely injuring both of her legs.
Following her detox, divorce, and surgery to heal severe damage to one leg, Thomas resumed her career, albeit in minor roles in TV shows. She also starred in movies including the 1987 movie Cyclone and the 1990 Canadian movie Red Blooded American Girl, which starred Christopher Plummer.
After putting her past behind her, Thomas made a fresh start in the 1990s. In an effort to further her career, she married entertainment attorney Skip Brittenham in 1992. In June 2000, Thomas gave birth to her only biological child, India Rose, while also assuming the role of stepmother to his two daughters, Kristina and Shauna.
“I decided to give it up and write for a while,” she told Reuters, “because I had about 45 restraining orders out, and I was on everything from a toilet seat cover to an ashtray—and I was in love, and [then] had two little girls.”
With a primary focus on writing, the actress from Zapped! claimed that frequent privacy violations by stalkers drove her away from acting, rather than a lack of roles.
“I was being really harassed. One day, I witnessed a person use a knife to scale the fence. That was it; I had these two small kids who needed to be raised so badly. However, I believe that now that I am older, people won’t annoy me as much.
In addition, Thomas is currently an activist, having previously served on the boards of the Amazon Conservation Team and the Rape Foundation.
Declaring oneself a feminist—a deceptive term for a former gender symbol—Thomas elucidated the significance of both.
“When I was younger, I followed people’s instructions, but as I grew older, I refused to compromise.” I desired independence and control. This got me a house and the recognition I needed to open doors. Having people see your body is not inherently bad. I don’t believe I deceived myself. Being a feminist, in my opinion, does not entail body shame, the woman stated.
Although it’s really unfortunate that Heather Thomas was unable to return to the acting world, we’re glad she received the support she required and is now embarking on a lifelong healing process.
We really enjoyed watching her as Jody Banks in The Fall Guy with the Six Million Dollar Man Lee Majors, one of the many amazing shows from the 1980s!
What you have to say about Thomas and her recuperation would be greatly appreciated!
At My Grandma’s Funeral, I Saw My Mom Hiding a Package in the Coffin — I Quietly Took It & Was Stunned When I Looked Inside
At my grandmother’s funeral, I saw my mother discreetly slip a mysterious package into the coffin. When I took it later out of curiosity, I didn’t expect it would unravel heartbreaking secrets that would haunt me forever.
They say grief comes in waves, but for me, it strikes like missing stairs in the dark. My grandmother Catherine wasn’t just family; she was my best friend, my universe. She made me feel like the most precious thing in the world, enveloping me in hugs that felt like coming home. Standing beside her coffin last week, I felt untethered, like learning to breathe with only half a lung.
An older woman in a coffin | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home’s soft lighting cast gentle shadows across Grandma’s peaceful face. Her silver hair was arranged just the way she always wore it, and someone had put her favorite pearl necklace around her neck.
My fingers traced the smooth wood of the casket as memories flooded back. Just last month, we’d been sitting in her kitchen, sharing tea and laughter while she taught me her secret sugar cookie recipe.
“Emerald, honey, she’s watching over you now, you know,” Mrs. Anderson, our next-door neighbor, placed a wrinkled hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses. “Your grandmother never stopped talking about her precious grandchild.”
A grieving young woman | Source: Midjourney
I wiped away a stray tear. “Remember how she used to make those incredible apple pies? The whole neighborhood would know it was Sunday just from the smell.”
“Oh, those pies! She’d send you over with slices for us, proud as could be. ‘Emerald helped with this one,’ she’d always say. ‘She has the perfect touch with the cinnamon.’”
“I tried making one last week,” I admitted, my voice catching. “It wasn’t the same. I picked up the phone to ask her what I’d done wrong, and then… the heart attack… the ambulance arrived and—”
“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Anderson pulled me into a tight hug. “She knew how much you loved her. That’s what matters. And look at all these people here… she touched so many lives.”
An emotional, teary-eyed woman | Source: Midjourney
The funeral home was indeed crowded, filled with friends and neighbors sharing stories in hushed voices. I spotted my mother, Victoria, standing off to the side, checking her phone. She hadn’t shed a tear all day.
As Mrs. Anderson and I were talking, I saw my mother approach the casket. She glanced around furtively before leaning over it, her manicured hand slipping something inside. It looked like a small package.
When she straightened, her eyes darted around the room before she walked away, her heels clicking softly on the hardwood floor.
A mature woman at a funeral | Source: Midjourney
“Did you see that?” I whispered, my heart suddenly racing.
“See what, dear?”
“My mom just…” I hesitated, watching my mother disappear into the ladies’ room. “Nothing. Just the grief playing tricks, I guess.”
But the unease settled in my stomach like a cold stone. Mom and Grandma had barely spoken in years. And there was no way my grandma would have asked for something to be put in her casket without my knowledge.
Something felt off.
A grieving woman looking ahead | Source: Midjourney
Evening shadows lengthened across the funeral home’s windows as the last mourners filtered out. The scent of lilies and roses hung heavy in the air, mixing with the lingering perfume of departed guests.
My mother had left an hour ago, claiming a migraine, but her earlier behavior kept nagging at me like a splinter under my skin.
“Ms. Emerald?” The funeral director, Mr. Peters, appeared at my elbow. His kind face reminded me of my grandfather, who we’d lost five years ago. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be in my office whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you. Mr. Peters.”
An older man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
I waited until his footsteps faded before approaching Grandma’s casket again. The room felt different now. Heavier, filled with unspoken words and hidden truths.
In the quiet space, my heartbeat seemed impossibly loud. I leaned closer, examining every detail of Grandma’s peaceful face.
There, barely visible beneath the fold of her favorite blue dress — the one she’d worn to my college graduation — was the corner of something wrapped in blue cloth.
I wrestled with guilt, torn between loyalty to my mom and the need to honor Grandma’s wishes. But my duty to protect Grandma’s legacy outweighed it.
My hands trembled as I carefully reached in, extracted the package, and slipped it into my purse.
A woman holding a brown leather purse | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” I whispered, touching her cold hand one last time. Her wedding ring caught the light, a final sparkle of the warmth she’d always carried.
“But something’s not right here. You taught me to trust my instincts, remember? You always said the truth matters more than comfort.”
Back home, I sat in Grandma’s old reading chair, the one she’d insisted I take when she moved to the smaller apartment last year. The package sat in my lap, wrapped in a familiar blue handkerchief.
I recognized the delicate “C” embroidered in the corner. I’d watched Grandma stitch it decades ago while she told me stories about her childhood.
A woman holding a small blue package | Source: Midjourney
“What secrets are you keeping, Mom?” I murmured, carefully untying the worn twine. My stomach churned at the sight that followed.
Inside were letters, dozens of them, each bearing my mother’s name in Grandma’s distinctive handwriting. The paper was yellowed at the edges, some creased from frequent handling.
A stunned woman holding a stack of old letters | Source: Midjourney
The first letter was dated three years ago. The paper was crisp, as if it had been read many times:
“Victoria,
I know what you did.
Did you think I wouldn’t notice the missing money? That I wouldn’t check my accounts? Month after month, I watched small amounts disappear. At first, I told myself there must be some mistake. That my own daughter wouldn’t steal from me. But we both know the truth, don’t we?
Your gambling has to stop. You’re destroying yourself and this family. I’ve tried to help you, to understand, but you keep lying to my face while taking more. Remember last Christmas when you swore you’d changed? When you cried and promised to get help? A week later, another $5,000 was gone.
I’m not writing this to shame you. I’m writing because it breaks my heart to watch you spiral like this.
Please, Victoria. Let me help you… really help you this time.
Mom”
A shocked woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I read letter after letter. Each one revealed more of the story I’d never known, painting a picture of betrayal that made my stomach turn.
The dates spread across years, the tone shifting from concern to anger to resignation.
One letter mentioned a family dinner where Mom had sworn she was done gambling.
I remembered that night — she’d seemed so sincere, tears streaming down her face as she hugged Grandma. Now I wondered if those tears had been real or just another performance.
A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
The final letter from Grandma made me catch my breath:
“Victoria,
You’ve made your choices. I’ve made mine. Everything I own will go to Emerald — the only person who’s shown me real love, not just used me as a personal bank. You may think you’ve gotten away with it all, but I promise you haven’t. The truth always comes to light.
Remember when Emerald was little, and you accused me of playing favorites? You said I loved her more than I loved you. The truth is, I loved you both differently but equally. The difference was that she loved me back without conditions, without wanting anything in return.
I still love you. I’ll always love you. But I cannot trust you.
Mom”
A surprised woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
My hands were shaking as I unfolded the last letter. This one was from my mother to Grandma, dated just two days ago, after Grandma’s death. The handwriting was sharp, angry strokes across the page:
“Mom,
Fine. You win. I admit it. I took the money. I needed it. You never understood what it’s like to feel that rush, that need. But guess what? Your clever little plan won’t work. Emerald adores me. She’ll give me whatever I ask for. Including her inheritance. Because she loves me. So in the end, I still win.
Maybe now you can stop trying to control everyone from beyond the grave. Goodbye.
Victoria”
A teary-eyed woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
Sleep eluded me that night. I paced my apartment, memories shifting and realigning with this new reality.
The Christmas gifts that always seemed too expensive. The times Mom had asked to “borrow” my credit card for emergencies. All those casual conversations about Grandma’s finances, disguised as daughter’s concern.
“Have you talked to Mom about getting power of attorney?” she’d asked one day. “You know how forgetful she’s getting.”
“She seems fine to me,” I’d replied.
“Just thinking ahead, sweetie. We need to protect her assets.”
My mother, driven solely by greed, had betrayed my grandmother and now, me.
A teary-eyed woman standing near the window | Source: Midjourney
By morning, my eyes were burning but my mind was clear. I called her, keeping my voice steady:
“Mom? Can we meet for coffee? There’s something important I need to give you.”
“What is it, sweetie?” Her voice dripped with honey-sweet concern. “Are you okay? You sound tired.”
“I’m fine. It’s about Grandma. She left a package for you. Said I should give it to you ‘when the time was right.’”
A mature woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Oh!” The eagerness in her voice made me wince. “Of course, darling. Where should we meet?”
“The coffee shop on Mill Street? The quiet one?”
“Perfect. You’re such a thoughtful daughter, Emerald. So different from how I was with my mother.”
The irony of her words was a dagger to my heart. “See you at two, Mom.” I then hung up.
A woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
The bell above the door chimed as my mother entered the coffee shop that afternoon, her eyes immediately finding my purse on the table.
She was wearing her favorite red blazer — the one she always wore to important meetings.
She sat down, reaching for my hand across the worn wooden surface. “You look exhausted, sweetheart. This has all been so hard on you, hasn’t it? You and your grandmother were so close.”
I just nodded and placed a wrapped bundle on the table. Inside were blank pages with just two letters on top — Grandma’s “I know what you did” one, and one I’d written myself.
A mature woman holding a small gift-wrapped package | Source: Midjourney
“What’s this?” she asked, her perfectly manicured nails breaking the seal on the first envelope. I watched as the color completely drained from her face when she opened the second one, her fingers gripping the paper so tightly that it crumpled at the edges.
My letter was simple:
“Mom,
I have the rest of the letters. If you ever try to manipulate me or come after what Grandma left me, everyone will know the truth. All of it.
Emerald”
A mature woman gaping in shock while holding a letter | Source: Midjourney
“Emerald, honey, I—”
I rose before she could finish, watching years of deception dissolve in her tears. “I love you, Mom. But that doesn’t mean you can manipulate me. You lost my trust. Forever.”
With that, I turned around and stormed out, leaving her alone with the weight of her lies and the ghost of Grandma’s truth. I realized some lies can’t stay buried forever, no matter how hard you try.
A young woman in a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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