I have always had this ability to remember dates and so I know it was May 10th, 1989 when I was apprehended. It was a Wednesday and I was sitting in my class at school when the principle came to get me. We went down to the office where there were two women waiting for me. I don’t really remember what was said but after talking for just a few min they sent me back to my classroom. I had barely sat down when they came back and told me to get my things. That night I was sleeping in a group home.
A few days earlier my step father had decided it was time for me to get my first bra because I was growing into a woman’s body. I was 11. I can remember taking this trip to the local mall and walking through the big department store, making our way to the back where the bra and panties were. We found two, a white one and a yellow one. That night he told me to go put one on and to show him and so I did what I was told. He showed me how to stand in a seductive way and he took pictures of me. I remember being on their bed, trying to be sexy and my mother standing right there watching. She didn’t say anything, she just stood there. I wanted her to stop what was happening. I looked right into her eyes and she instantly looked away. Looking back I know it was the shame that stopped her from looking into my eyes and it was fear that prevented her from doing the right thing and stopping what was happening.
This was back before digital cameras, cell phones, and home computers so he had to take the film in to be developed at the local one hour photo. Whoever developed the pictures called the police so when my mother and step father showed up to get the pictures they were taken in for questioning. I am grateful for the person working at the one hour photo that day. They did the right thing and didn’t ignore what was in front of them. I am grateful that they did something.
As they were getting questioned in town, I was getting off the bus at home. There was a police car in the driveway waiting for me. The officer explained why he was there and then he asked me who took the pictures. I said it was my stepfather. He then asked me if anything else was going on and I said no. After talking for a while he gave me his card and said to call if I needed anything. It was the next day when I was apprehended from school.
When my mother and step father got home she asked me what I told the police. Mainly, she wanted to know who I said took the pictures and was upset with me when I told her that I had said it was him. I guess in an attempt to protect him she had told the police it was her. She told me that if I was asked about it again to say it was her.
After about 2 months in the group home I was asked to come and sit at the table. The social workers were on one side, me and my foster mother on the other. They were preparing to take me back home but wanted to talk to me once more. Of course they had already asked me if anything else was going on and I said no. I just wanted my mom to leave him and to be with me. I didn’t want to tell, I was scared. I had heard him threaten my mother before, telling her if she left he would kill her. When faced with the option of telling or going back to that house, I chose to tell. It never crossed my mind that she wouldn’t choose me; I was only worried that he would hurt her.
I had asked my foster mom a few days later if I could call my mother and she said I could but that I needed to know that my step father was denying all the allegations and to be prepared. In my naivety I thought that once I told, my mother would be coming to get me. I thought we would be going to get our own place and life would be good. I remember everything about this phone call. I was standing at the dark brown phone table which was sitting against a small wall in between the kitchen and the dining room. The phone itself was a cream color rotary phone, you know the ones that have the big dial on the front and if you make one mistake you had to start over again. It was already the end of June by this time and it was a warm sunny day and so I was wearing a tank top and shorts. I picked up the phone and dialed the number. She answered and I said “Hello mom.” She asked me why I was calling there. I told her I missed her and I loved her. Then she asked me why I lied about my stepfather. I told her it was true and she yelled at the top of her voice into the phone, “You are a fucking lying little bitch.” I will never forget her exact words. To this day I can see and feel everything about that very short conversation. I didn’t talk to or see her again until we were in court.
The thing is that some of the abuse happened right in front of her eyes. He took the pictures in front of her. He would walk around the house with no cloths on, he would make me get undressed as well and get me to sit on his knee and she was there for that. He watched adult films all the time in the living room. I saw my first adult film by the time I was 6 years old. I asked my two sisters once a long time ago if they remembered anything from living at that house because they were both very little when they left to live with their dad. My one sister remembers nothing and my other sister remembers the dirty movies. That’s it. He would say that it was education and that I should know about this stuff because then I can protect myself from strangers. When they started a sexual abuse prevention program at my school I had to get permission to participate. I have signed a similar form so that my kids can participate in these programs. But when I would bring it home he wouldn’t sign it or allow my mother to because I already knew about this stuff and I didn’t need to learn it at school. I already knew that strangers were not allowed to touch me and that I could only trust family.
When I look back I realize he was a master groomer and manipulator. He was a retired maximum security prison guard and he was trained in the art of control. He groomed me by teaching me that what happens in families stays in families. He told me all the time how I was so smart because I knew better then to allow a stranger to do anything. I knew that what was happening made me feel gross and dirty but I endured because I thought I had to. I thought it was normal and that everyone grew up like this. When that officer came to talk to me I was confused about the questions because I didn’t think there was anything wrong with the taking of pictures. I knew that I didn’t like the way it made me feel but it didn’t occur to me that it was wrong until that day. When I was in the group home there was a lot of talk about personal space and modesty which were both foreign thoughts to me. It was through these talks and counselling sessions that it became clear that what was happening was wrong.
He had complete control over her because she was afraid of him. She always did exactly what he said. Cooked what he wanted, cleaned the way he wanted, and dressed the way he wanted. He was a sexual predator and so its no surprise that he was also very dominating toward her in that aspect as well. I seen them have sex on multiple occasions and he would force her to have sex with other men and women. He controlled who she talked to and would listen in on her phone conversations. One day when I was 17 my phone rang and it was her on the other end. We talked for about ten minutes without even mentioning him and finally I asked her, “Did you leave him?” She said no and that he was actually listening to our phone call. By this time they had been together for 11 years and he was still listening to her phone calls. I can’t imagine what it was like for her after I was gone. She did eventually leave him, but only have he tried to shoot her.
It might seem that I have sympathy for her, when what I really have is the ability to look at the contributing factors. There is no excuse for the fact that she didn’t do her job as a mother, she didn’t protect me or my sisters but I also know the cards were stacked against her since she was a child. She didn’t really have anyone in her corner, guiding her or helping her. She could have made better choices but I also understand how people can fall into these relationships and not be able to get out. She was looking for someone to love her, even if it was dysfunctional and abusive. To her, love was supposed to hurt because that’s what she knew.
At this point in my life I am healed and this stuff really doesn’t bother me anymore. I rarely think about him except I have this ability to remember dates and so every year I think about him on his birthday, January 1st. I used to hate remembering it and it would ruin my day but now when it enters my mind, I shove it right back out. I refuse to let my memories and experiences have any sort of negative control over me. I am stronger because of these experiences, I am the one in control of my life now.
