I have told the story of my grandmother's death and the time up until we found out the truth of what my mother did with her body. My mother was sentenced to time in prison, with time served and the chance at early parole.
By the mid-nineties my marriage was coming apart. There had been a couple of abusive incidents and my answer to this was to go out with my girlfriends on the weekends. I still didn't think that I was one of those "abused wives" that you see covered in bruises - these incidents only happened every six months or so. Then there was the afternoon that I came home on a Saturday from work, exhausted. I just wanted to sit back on the couch and relax for a few minutes. My husband was roughhousing with my oldest son and I asked them if they could please stop for a while so I could get some peace and quiet. It kept on. I asked again, and again - until finally I just stood up and said, "I'm going for a drive to relax." I walked back out towards the Jeep and heard him come out the door. Before I turned around all of the way he had slammed into me, and that was all I remember. I just climbed in the Jeep. Then, he pushed my son out the door, called him a 'pussy' and told him to go with me. Without a word we just pulled out. Within a few blocks his teeth were chattering - it gets cold really quick in Washington when the sun goes down. - and I knew I had to swallow my pride and ask to get a jacket for my son so that he could be warm. So I stopped at a phone booth and told Ron that we needed to come back for jackets. He said that I needed to come back because base security was there. The neighbors had seen his freight train rush at me and called the police. So we went back and they took him away, and asked me a few questions. They said that the neighbors saw him hit me. I didn't recall being hit. They asked me if I felt sore anywhere and I realized my upper arm was hurting. I pulled up my sleeve and my whole bicep was dark purple. So he wasn't allowed to come home for three days...(wow) and was instructed to attend anger management classes.
As he deployed my friends and I spent more and more time hanging out with the Explosive Ordnance Disposal guys from the base. They were a lot of fun to hang out with and they didn't seem too concerned with what other people thought of them. I made a few good friends out of that group, although they were chauvinistic assholes at times. They had a lot of groupies. Then came the night that I saw Shawn. My friend Brenda and I were having a couple of beers and saw our buddies with a new guy. He was VERY drunk and had already been cut off. He could barely walk a crooked line, much less a straight one and we had quite a laugh at his expense....
Next time we met was in October. Shawn's best buddy Kevin called Brenda and asked us if we would take him out for his 25th birthday because most of his friends were on various jobs away from the island. So we met him and had a few drinks with him and some other friends, then we realized that our friend Tracy had wandered out. Somehow she had climbed in the back of my Jeep and passed out. We had no idea how we were going to get her home and get her out of the back. So a bunch of us went to Taco Bell and the friendship began. I always felt comfortable around Shawn, even when I barely knew him, like I wasn't expected to talk and make conversation just to make noise.
Then came the point when Brenda told Kevin and Shawn about my marriage. All of a sudden I had a lot of very protective 'big brothers' worrying about me. And Kevin and Shawn gave me a key to their condo and told me to 'use it if I needed it'. Not much was said about why.
I was beginning to realize that I had more feelings for Shawn than I should. And it scared me. We had a great time together, but he was younger, single and enjoying it. And he would be leaving when his tour was up. He and his buddies taught my oldest son how to snowboard, and bought him blue hair dye when he complained I wouldn't let him dye his hair. After all, it wasn't their kid right? And yes, that is the excuse I got.
Then everything came apart at home. I was so uncomfortable with my husband (and falling in love with a man that I thought would be leaving in another year) that we hadn't been together for a long time. We slept in the same bed, but I always found myself at the edge of it, and always fully clothed. One day, we were having a disagreement, not a fight. There wasn't any yelling going on. I said something and next thing I knew he was on top of me, choking me. Then nothing. Then I came to realizing that my oldest son, who was 14 at the time, had come in and pulled him off of me and was trying to keep him away from me. And my two little ones were in their room crying and screaming "You're killing momma! You're killing momma!". That was it. I didn't say a word, just went to the kids and sat in their room hugging them. He hung around and kept saying he knew he had to leave, as if waiting for me to say no, and finally left. Then Shawn showed up. Joel had called him. He didn't stay, just looked at us all and asked if we were alright, shaking his head.
That was my wake up call. My oldest son had literally saved my life. My kids were terrified. I couldn't let them grow up thinking this was normal. So I began the divorce proceedings. The retired judge who helped me told me that only 5% of abusers learn to quit. And that abuse always escalates, usually ending in death if the victim takes no action. (As it could have for me.) I found a place to live. And dealt with Ron stalking me through town on my lunch break. Kind of hard to do when you drive a bright red IROC-Z, by the way. So my bosses started letting me use cars off of the car lot and I would sometimes drive right past Ron as he was out looking for me. I was thankful when he took orders to California. I felt bad the day he left, but I knew I had made the right decision. I was on my own, a single mom with my kids and a dog. Scared, but free.
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