“It was devastating for her. She was hurt. We were both young and reckless in many ways,” he said. “But time has softened much of the pain. Maureen and I have long since found peace, and I remain deeply grateful for everything we shared. Plant emphasized that this chapter of his life, while difficult, is not one he regrets—only one he’s finally ready to acknowledge. It’s part of my story,” he said. “Not the part I’m proudest of. But it’s mine. And I owe it to the people I love to stop hiding it……

It was devastating for her. She was hurt. We were both young and reckless in many ways,” he admitted quietly, the weight of memory evident in his voice. For years, this chapter of his life had remained unspoken—tucked away in the corners of his past, too raw to revisit, too complex to explain. But time, as it often does, had softened the sharp edges of pain, allowing reflection where once there had only been regret.

“She didn’t deserve it,” he continued. “Maureen and I shared something beautiful, something real. But I was immature. I didn’t know how to handle what we had, or what was expected of me.” It was a time of chaos, fame, and emotional confusion—where youth collided with opportunity, and mistakes were easy to make.

Still, he doesn’t speak with bitterness, only with a calm, somber clarity. “We’ve long since found peace,” he said. “She’s forgiven me, and I’ve learned to forgive myself, too. I remain deeply grateful for everything we shared—for her love, her strength, and the time we had together. That gratitude outweighs the regret now.”

When asked why he was speaking about it at last, he paused. “Because it’s part of my story,” he said simply. “Not the part I’m proudest of. But it’s mine. And I owe it to the people I love to stop hiding it.” His voice didn’t tremble, but there was vulnerability there—a man who had carried a silent burden for decades, now learning to let it go.

Plant emphasized that acknowledging this past wasn’t about reopening old wounds, but about owning them. “There’s no redemption in denial,” he said. “Only in facing what you’ve done and understanding how it shaped you.”

As he looked back, there was no attempt to excuse his actions, only a quiet acceptance that mistakes were made—and that growth had come from them. “Life isn’t neat,” he said. “It’s messy, especially when you’re young and think you’re invincible. But even the hardest chapters teach you something. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, the people you hurt still offer you grace.”

In finally telling this story, he wasn’t seeking absolution. Just honesty. And in that honesty, perhaps, a measure of peace—for himself, for Maureen, and for anyone who’s ever had to face the truth of who they once were.