‘American Pickers’ Frank Fritz put under guardianship – things started going downhill after bad engagement – Latest news!

We occasionally follow paths in life that we never would have imagined. Although Frank Fritz was a well-liked character on television, he was going through a lot in his personal life.

This is his tragic tale…

Longtime partner of Frank Fritz was Diann Bankson. His tumultuous split from her resulted in his drinking, unemployment, and even a medical emergency. Although the two are now permanently apart, their time spent together left a lasting impression on them both.]

At the age of 25, Frank Fritz, the host of “American Pickers,” first laid eyes on Diann Bankson. The pair intermittently dated before being engaged in 2017. They moved in together after purchasing an Iowa farmhouse a year later in 2018.

Their relationship, however, soured in November of that year when Bankson claimed to have “walked in” on Fritz and “caught him in bed with another woman.”

Fritz disclosed in an interview that Bankson had cheated on him and that he was even reminded of her “betrayal” by a tattoo. However, he declared his desire to wed her.

“I had planned to get married, had purchased a house and a very expensive ring, and was shocked to learn that my fiancée had been seeing someone else for the previous 2.5 years,” Fritz remarked.

Fritz stated, “She’s the cheater, which is why I got a tattoo saying ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.’” He said that the tattoo was meant to act as a reminder to never do “the same mistake again.” And that Bankson had “cost” him a lot of money, he said.

He started drinking to heal his broken heart. That’s how he handled his heartbreak, he claimed. He lost a lot of weight as a result of this as well. “I gave it a good shot,” remarked Fritz. I made an attempt to drown her.

He overcame his drinking issue, but because the last relationship with Bankson had “stung hard enough,” he made the decision to put off dating for a while.

Following the split, he had losses in his career as well. The Sun claims that after March 2020, he stopped hosting History Channel’s “American Pickers.”

Fritz gave an explanation for his absence, saying that he intended to return to the show after the scar from his back surgery healed. “I would like to return to the show,” Fritz remarked. Now that I’m fully recovered, I’m prepared to resume my role on the show.

Fritz claimed there had been no definitive decision made by the show regarding his return. He said, though, that a showrunner had given him a call and assured him that he would return to the screen.

Despite Fritz having worked on the show for ten years, TMZ claims that the show has “no plans” to employ him as a host once more.

In addition to not returning to his show, Bankson’s ex-boyfriend Eric Longlett, an engineering administration manager, made his debut. She gushed about how fortunate she was to be with him in posts about him on social media.

“He took me to see Elton John’s Yellow Brick Road Farewell Tour,” she captioned a photo of herself and Longlett together at the concert. I’m a fortunate woman. Love you, sweetie. oxo

Fritz was hospitalized on July 4, 2022, following a stroke. After finding him on his house floor, his companion had phoned for assistance. The 911 call in which his friend stated, “He might be seizuring, I’m not sure,” was obtained by The US Sun.

Bill Fritz, Fritz’s father, told the reporters that his son was healing nicely and getting better every day.

His recuperation was not as complete as the physicians had hoped, though. After being discharged from the hospital, he was placed under guardianship and sent to a nursing home.

On August 18, 2022, his “longtime friend” reportedly filed an emergency appointment for temporary guardianship and conservatorship on his behalf, which was subsequently approved.

The bank was designated as his conservator to manage his finances, and his friend was named as his guardian.

In its capacity as his conservator, the bank would manage all of his care facility bills, including daily costs, health insurance, maintenance, and property tax payments. The bank would have to make sure he could get to events and doctor’s visits in a suitable manner.

In addition to being “in decision-making since the stroke,” his friend’s guardianship required that he submit a “initial care plan” for the patient.

In order to achieve this, his guardian would have to make decisions about his living situation, place of residence at the time, health, and medical requirements. They would also need to arrange for him to participate in activities, maintain communication with him and his loved ones, and pursue romantic relationships. It would also be expected of him to provide an annual report as his guardian.

His health was getting worse, according to his papers, and it was making it more difficult for him to make wise decisions for himself, “without which physical injury or illness may occur.”

Documents revealed that he was unable to “make, communicate, or carry out important decisions concerning his own financial affairs,” indicating that his condition was far worse than previously believed.

His guardian will have to make decisions on his behalf as he heals and is able to “receive treatment for his injuries.”

The court determined that Fritz needs a guardian in order to prevent additional harm to his health. The court decided that “appointing a guardian and conservator is necessary to avoid immediate harm to him.”

This story really breaks my heart. We send Frank Fritz our best wishes for wellness and recovery.

Tell your friends and relatives about this so they can pray for the well-being of their beloved TV show presenter and learn what happened to him.

A Rich Man Turned Away a 10-Year-Old Boy Begging for Help – 13 Years Later, Their Paths Cross Again in an Unexpected Twist

Soaked by rain and trembling with hunger, a young boy once asked a wealthy stranger for help, and was coldly turned away. Thirteen years later, their paths cross again, but this time the boy holds the power to change a life.

It was raining so hard I couldn’t see past the next streetlight. The kind of rain that made your clothes stick to your skin and your shoes feel like sponges.

Heavy rain | Source: Pexels

Heavy rain | Source: Pexels

I stood outside a restaurant with gold doors and soft music coming through the windows. I watched people eat warm food from behind the glass, while my stomach twisted.

I was ten. Cold. Wet. Tired. But mostly hungry.

I held a piece of cardboard with shaky letters: “Hungry. Please help.”

A homeless boy on the street | Source: Midjourney

A homeless boy on the street | Source: Midjourney

Some folks walked by and didn’t even look. A man in a brown hat stepped around me like I was trash on the sidewalk. A woman in heels pulled her coat tighter and crossed to the other side. I didn’t blame them. I was just a soggy kid standing near a place that smelled like steak and bread.

Then I saw the car.

A black car driving up to a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A black car driving up to a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

It was long and black, polished like a mirror. It rolled up without a sound and stopped right in front of the restaurant. A man stepped out. He was tall, with silver hair and a coat that looked heavy and warm. He didn’t look rushed like the others. He looked like he owned the night.

People said his name around town like it meant something. He ran some company.

A wealthy man stepping out of the car | Source: Midjourney

A wealthy man stepping out of the car | Source: Midjourney

Big deals, lots of money. I’d heard his name once when I was staying at the shelter. The workers called him “the big man with the cold heart.”

I stepped forward.

“Sir? Please… I haven’t eaten in two days. Could you maybe help me? Even leftovers are fine.”

He looked at me like I was a broken window.

A boy looking up in the rain | Source: Midjourney

A boy looking up in the rain | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t beg,” he said. “Go find your parents. Get lost.”

And just like that, he walked past me.

The doors opened. Warm air poured out. Laughter, clinking glasses. I watched him step inside, dry and clean, like I never happened. The doors shut again. I was alone in the rain.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t even speak.

A sad boy looking into the camera | Source: Midjourney

A sad boy looking into the camera | Source: Midjourney

But I didn’t forget.

Life didn’t get easier after that night. Not right away.

My mom died when I was seven. My dad left a year later. No one ever told me why. One morning he was just gone. I ended up in foster care. Some homes were okay. Some weren’t.

A crying boy | Source: Pexels

A crying boy | Source: Pexels

I didn’t talk much back then. But I listened. I watched. School became my hiding place. Books were quiet and safe. Teachers didn’t yell if you stayed in your seat and turned things in on time.

In fifth grade, I met Ms. Tully. She was my homeroom teacher. Wore big glasses and always had chalk on her hands. One day, she saw me doing extra math worksheets during lunch. I was trying to keep busy so I didn’t feel hungry.

A smiling boy with a book | Source: Pexels

A smiling boy with a book | Source: Pexels

She sat beside me and said, “You’re sharp, Jake. Ever think about college?”

I laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it felt impossible.

But she didn’t drop it. She met with counselors. Helped me apply for a scholarship to a private middle school. I got in.

It wasn’t magic. Life was still hard. I still moved around. Still counted every dollar. But that was the start.

A smiling boy with a book | Source: Pexels

A smiling boy with a book | Source: Pexels

By high school, I was tutoring other kids in math and writing code after school. I got into a good college. Full ride. Studied computer science and built apps at night in my dorm. One of them took off.

It started slow. A few downloads. Then thousands. Then millions.

I started my own company before I even graduated. By 23, I was the youngest CEO in the state.

A young man working in an office | Source: Pexels

A young man working in an office | Source: Pexels

People asked me how I did it. I always said hard work. Truth is, I never stopped being that hungry kid outside the restaurant.

That night stuck with me. The cold. The silence. The way that man looked through me like I didn’t matter.

I didn’t hate him. But I never forgot what it felt like to be invisible.

And I never stopped wondering what I’d do if I saw him again.

A young man deep in thought | Source: Pexels

A young man deep in thought | Source: Pexels

The lobby was all glass and steel. Everything smelled like lemon polish and fresh coffee. I’d been to a hundred meetings like this, but something felt different that morning. My assistant had told me the interview was for a senior finance role—someone with executive-level experience. I was early, so I waited by the window with a bottle of water in hand.

That’s when I saw him.

A man in his office | Source: Pexels

A man in his office | Source: Pexels

He was sitting near the reception desk, shoulders tight, knees bouncing. He held a resume in one hand and a folded coat in the other. His hair was thinner now. His face had deep lines. The confident, sharp man I remembered was gone. This version looked tired. Nervous. Like he hadn’t been in a room like this in a long time.

It took a second to be sure. But it was him.

A mature man deep in thought | Source: Pexels

A mature man deep in thought | Source: Pexels

The same man who had walked past me in the rain thirteen years ago. Same sharp nose. Same deep voice—I could hear it now as he thanked the receptionist with a tight smile.

I just stared at him. He didn’t notice me.

That was fine. I didn’t plan to say anything yet. I wanted to see who he was now.

A moment later, the receptionist called both our names. I stood and straightened my jacket.

A young man opening a door to his office | Source: Pexels

A young man opening a door to his office | Source: Pexels

“Right this way,” I said calmly, holding the door open.

He gave a small nod. “Thanks.”

He followed me into the conference room, glancing around. I could see it in his face—he thought I was another applicant. Just some young professional there for the same shot.

We sat across from each other.

A young man sitting at his desk | Source: Pexels

A young man sitting at his desk | Source: Pexels

I opened his resume and let a pause fill the room.

“You’re applying for the financial advisory position,” I said, keeping my tone even.

“Yes,” he said quickly. “I have over fifteen years of experience. I used to run my own firm. I stepped away for a while, but I’m ready to bring value again.”

I nodded. “Says here your company folded.”

A mature man sitting in an office | Source: Pexels

A mature man sitting in an office | Source: Pexels

He looked down. “Yes. Things happened. There were… mistakes. Partnerships I shouldn’t have trusted. I lost a lot. I’m just looking for a chance to get back on my feet.”

I watched him for a moment.

“Do you remember a rainy night? Outside a restaurant?”

He blinked. “I—what?”

A shocked mature man | Source: Freepik

A shocked mature man | Source: Freepik

“Thirteen years ago,” I continued. “A little boy stood outside that restaurant, soaking wet. Hungry. Holding a cardboard sign.”

He stared at me, eyes narrowing. “I don’t…”

“He asked you for food,” I said. “You told him, ‘Don’t beg. Go find your parents. Get lost.’”

He went pale.

A serious young man in an office | Source: Pexels

A serious young man in an office | Source: Pexels

“I…” His voice cracked. “I don’t remember. But… that sounds like something I might have said. I’m sorry.”

“That boy,” I said quietly, “was me.”

The room fell into silence. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner.

His mouth opened, but no words came out.

A shocked young man in an office | Source: Freepik

A shocked young man in an office | Source: Freepik

“I’m not angry,” I said. “I’m not here to throw it back in your face. I’ve carried that moment with me—not out of hate. Just as a reminder.”

He leaned forward slowly, voice low. “I was a different man. I thought money meant I was better than people. I treated people like they were nothing. I’ve lost everything since then. I see it now. I do.”

I believed him. At least, I believed he meant it.

A serious young man looking at his laptop | Source: Freepik

A serious young man looking at his laptop | Source: Freepik

I closed his resume. “We won’t be offering you the job,” I said.

He nodded slowly. “I understand.”

“But,” I added, reaching into my folder, “a friend of mine runs a firm. They’re hiring. And they believe in giving second chances.”

I slid a card across the table.

A man showing a business card | Source: Pexels

A man showing a business card | Source: Pexels

He picked it up like it was made of gold. His hands shook.

“You’d do that for me?”

“I would,” I said. “Because someone once believed in me when they didn’t have to.”

He stood, clutching the card, eyes glassy.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “I mean that.”

A smiling mature man | Source: Pexels

A smiling mature man | Source: Pexels

I nodded once. “Good luck.”

He walked out of the room, a little straighter than before.

I stood by the window, watching people move along the sidewalk below. Some held umbrellas. Some just hurried through the rain. I thought about that night again, how cold I was, how invisible I felt. I never wanted revenge. I only wanted to matter.

A man looking out of the window | Source: Freepik

A man looking out of the window | Source: Freepik

Today, I saw a man fall from the place I once watched him rise. But I didn’t push him down. I offered a hand. Because kindness isn’t weakness. It’s strength. And maybe, just maybe, that boy in the rain can finally let go of the hurt. Not forget, but forgive. And keep walking forward.

If you enjoyed reading this story, consider checking out this one: Maggie adores her daughter-in-law, Lara. So when she overhears her son, Dan, planning a night with his mistress, she refuses to stay silent. With Lara by her side, she follows him, straight to his betrayal. But exposing him just isn’t enough.

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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