From J.A. in salt lake county
Dear Utah,
Learning to Live Again: Effects and Impact of Domestic Violence
I have been a victim and I am a survivor of intimate partner violence. I’m also an advocate for social change with regard to intimate partner violence. As a victim/survivor of intimate partner violence, I tell my story often, always working to continue the process of moving awareness of intimate partner violence into the public mind. I tell my story because in Utah, 1 in 3 women and 1 in 9 men will experience intimate partner violence in their lifetimes, higher than the national average. These statistics are too high. I tell my story to help those who have never experienced intimate partner violence begin to understand how it feels to live in a violent relationship. I tell my story in the hopes that a victim/survivor of intimate partner violence will hear me and develop the courage it takes to leave. I tell my story with the hopes of social change that ends intimate partner violence. We must learn to talk about this problem in supporting and empathetic ways if we are ever going to move past this type of violence.
In this letter, I am going to tell my story of violence. I will explain the ways that the legal system has helped me and the ways the legal system has failed me. I will talk about the ways that the consequences of this violence have impacted me, my children, and many others around me. I will talk about parole boards and release dates. And I will talk about ongoing fear and struggle.
But first, the story of the assault that brings me to this forum, today. When I walked into my house on August 22, 2015, my now ex-husband was waiting for me. That day, he held a gun to my head more times than I can count. He pistol whipped me so hard he broke the butt of the gun on my head. He beat me with his fists and a meat cleaver, kicked me, shot both of my legs, shot my left elbow, and finally shot me in the head. There are no words for the pain I endured. This all took place over the course of four hours, while I was held hostage and fought for my life. I cannot emphasize this enough: I fought! Victim/survivors of intimate partner violence are fighting for their lives–Every. Single. Day.
During those four hours, I begged him to leave me alone. I begged him not to kill me. Each time he walked toward me with that gun, I had to apologize and appease the man who had tortured me for years. He remained emotionally abusive, even as he beat me. Every time he walked toward me with that gun, I knew it could be the end of my life. Every time he held the gun against my head, I winced worried that this time he would pull the trigger. My ex-husband emotionally tortured me that morning like he never had before. He made me beg for my life. And then finally SWAT entered, calling my name. When he fired the shot that would take my right eye, I had just heard SWAT call my name and turned my head slightly. For that reason, and that reason alone, I am alive. The bullet that would have gone in the back of my head went into my right temple and out my forehead (taking out my right eye) instead. That bullet missed my brain by a millimeter. The only word for this is Lucky.
My now ex-husband went to prison for this assault. He was sentenced to 25-life. I was left with a severely wounded body, severe PTSD, traumatized children, bills, and debt. Debt that he had taken out in my name. I worked to fix my body. I spend hours in physical therapy for my arm. I had surgeries on my eye socket and arm. I worked to pay off a bankruptcy that was the result of his credit fraud in my name. I had to make ends meet on one paycheck. I had to work full-time while parenting children with PTSD–while myself suffering from PTSD. We all had therapy and more therapy. One of my children was hospitalized three times for suicidal ideation. Doctors said he had the worst case of PTSD they had ever seen. It has been hard. I work hard to heal us and keep us together.
Because of the criminal nature of this incident, I worked with district attorneys, who were amazing. They explained the legal processes clearly. They listened to me with empathy. They walked me through the process such that I was neither lost nor overwhelmed. They were with me every step of the way. The DAs helped, but the system itself does not value victim/survivors of domestic violence in every way.
Even though he held me hostage; even though he beat me; even though he sexually assaulted me; even though he shot me in four places; even though he shot a police officer; even though he filled the house with gas and tried to cause an explosion; even though he shot a friend standing outside, he will be up for parole after spending only 8 years in prison. This is a man who must stay in prison. Because of the intricacies of the criminal justice system, he only needed to spend a certain percentage of time in prison before his first parole hearing. I’m assured he won’t get out, but that it NOT the point, or not the only point. I am still deathly afraid of this man, and I KNOW that he will try to kill me again, and I KNOW that he will come after my children. Some may believe in redemption. And some may believe in rehabilitation. But not for this man. I know him better than anybody else does. I had studied him for years to try to anticipate his moods, anticipate the abuse. I know him. Law enforcement does not. He commitmany heinous crimes. One cannot come back from trying to take people’s lives.
Even though he may not get out of prison this time, this process does at least two things. First, it proves to me that he will eventually get out of prison and have the opportunity to come after my children and myself. Of this, I have no doubt. Second, my family, friends, and I are having to relive and reprocess the worst day of all of our lives. Huddled together again, we remember how terrifying it was, how hard things were, how much I struggled, how much mental health care my children have needed.
Now that the fact that he will eventually get out of prison is a real possibility in my head, and now that my family and I have begun preparing letters to the parole board, I have had to repeat the moments of that dreadful morning over in my head. Over and over and over. And I’ve had to remember how recovery was awful and seemingly impossible. I have had to remember the constant struggle. How I couldn’t read for a year. How I was worried I wouldn’t be able to do my job anymore. I have had to remember how I needed constant help for two years, just to parent my children, because the assault had hollowed me out–rendered me empty. All the things that I have spent years processing in therapy have come flooding back. I’m scared again. Really scared.
My children, too. They have to think, again, about the man who they watched abuse me for years. They have to remember how it felt to wonder if their mom was going to die. They have to remember how it felt to lose their dad in an instant. They have to remember being driven around by other people, because I couldn’t. They have to remember how it felt to see their mom struggle to get out of bed. They have to trace back over years and years of mental health appointments and therapy. They have to worry. Again. As though they haven’t been through enough, they are scared. Again.
The last 7½ years have been so hard. All of the therapy. All of the surgeries. All of the doctor's appointments. I think they have been the hardest on my children. There have been so many mental health professionals. So many hours spent in therapist and psychiatrist offices. So many hours worrying and panicking that I might die. There have been inpatient hospitalizations and outpatient programs. They have struggled deeply, but we work hard to survive together. You see, living through a traumatic event doesn’t mean surviving it. Survival is a constant struggle. Everyday labor. My kids and I stick together like glue. We are embedded in each others’ lives. We are the definition of close-knit. We–they–need to be safe. They WILL NOT be safe if he gets out of prison. He will absolutely try to make contact, follow them, stalk them, look for them.
And so I fight. Because that is what I do. I have engaged lawyers to help me protect my children, further remove their dad from their lives. This takes a lot of money–money that I have already spent on mental health care over the last 7 plus years. Money that I had to spend in order to help heal my children’s minds and souls. And so, I’m asking for help, in the form of donations–any small amount helps–the help with legal fees that are already piling up. I’m asking in the form of good will and good vibes. We will need it as we fight the system and this evil man. I ask in the form of love, which I give back freely. If you can donate, my closest friends have set up a GoFundMe. https://gofund.me/918300e3
With all my love,
Jenny