Thursday, February 17, 2011

The Trial

Of course, the defense needed me to say as many bad things about my dad as possible to help my mom, and the prosecutor needed  me to paint my mom as "bent" for the very same reasons.  At this point we were living with my fathers mom, grandma which made things very awkward for me.  I knew what they wanted, expected from me but I could not give it to them.  They wanted me to help hang my mom out to dry but I could not. They knew what I knew, they knew how mean and crazy he was.

Problem was, somewhere during all of this my mom lost herself and stopped caring for us kids so they turned on her.  But looking back, if I were 27, just killed the man I had been with my whole adult life, facing life in prison, losing my kids, when I had already lived as a caged animal the last decade, I do not know that I could have kept it together any better than she did.

I mean, she was forced to quit school, could NOT work, could NOT get her driver's license, she could NOT wear skirts, could NOT cut her hair, could NOT wear make up, and had her ass beat many times for any man she looked at, including her BROTHERS, she was acutally accused and beaten over her brothers for christs sakes, so I  think, in that brief time, that few months, while she was awaiting trial and was a "free woman" for the first time ever, she kind of lost it, did not knwo what to do, how to act.  i cannot say I blame ehr although it was really hard on us kids during an already difficult time.  As I said before I was the first witness, all day, 8 hours.  Now, my staying power was not that great, let me tel you.  They started out asking me about specific "horrible" incidents that had occurred with my father that my mom had already told them about.

For instance, my brother cut his thigh, to the "white meat" as they say, my dad was drunk, and decided it would be a good idea to "fix it" himself to save money, so he held him down, took a sewing needle, and fishing line and started to sew him up. My brother screamed, my little brother, it made me want to throw up it was so bad, mom knew we had to do something, my dad was like 5 rows in, so 10 stictches, going through his little leg with that needle, thick fishing line and no pain killer, so my mom and I started screaming at dad, breaking dishes to distract him, he jumped on her and I called 911 to get ambulance there.  To this day, my brother has a horrible scar, with several dots where the line went through.

Then one day, we had a headboard from a bed sitting outside (white trash i tell ya) and it had been there a while, my brother, very young, maybe 7 yrs old, carved "ASS" in it. My dad made him stand by the street, licking the word until he "licked it off" needless to say many hours later, it was still there.  I had to continue to go through these stories, all day.  I will go into the ones that most affected me in the next blog, but this was what my day was like.  At some point, they continued to call me a liar, because I had changed my story regarding whether or not he was awake when I last entered the room, which was really the most IMPORTANT factor into whether or not it was self defense, I faltered on this for some reason.

I am not really sure why because I had the story down pat as I believed it to be true until I was 16 and sat up in bed from a nightmare and "saw" the real story from that day.  But I think the anger I had in me for my mom changing, partying, and not being a mom made some stuff change without me even realiznig it over the course of the trial.  I was so hurt, so scared, I just did not know who she was.  I can remember it being winter and there being NO heat, nd the grown ups being in a room with the kerosene heater while us kids had to make due with no heat in the remainder of the houes.

When she came out of the room I started to tear everything up, throwing cards, games, clothes, asking how she could do this to us, how she could be this person, I had to take care of my brothers. Even though we had went to live at grandmas due to her changing behavior we were still wth her on weekends.  I hated Hank, I had caught them fucking and he had threatened me, I hated this life we were living. At first I was so glad to be free of "hitler" I could wear make up, use the phone, not be afraid, or so I thought, then I realized there were many mean men around to hurt me. Suddenly daddy didn't seem so bad.  At least I knew what to expect from Daddy and he was only one man....  I did not know what to expect by all of these other men we were surrounded by that suddenly wanted my mothers attention....


  1. Forgive me for not replying to your comments on my previous posts. That is not like me, I love comments and love to comment. Usually I am really on top of that.

    But the last two blogs i have found difficult to write and difficult to respond to. Please do not give up on me, or stop commenting, I am reading and I will reply. But for some reason, I am having a hard time with this process right now. I think it is because I am about to head into the most difficult part for me, so it is hard to address all of this.

    Unfortunately this story only gets worse, and I have never truly dealt with it. This is a major part of the closure for me and I need all of you to complete taht process, it is just right now, I am trying to deal with all of the emotion that comes with putting it out there for everyone

  2. I stumbled upon your blog yesterday, and I just wanted to tell you that even though you are blogging anonymously, you are so brave to share your story. I know it has to be difficult to deal with these memories. I have some phantom memories of my own, and I can't even blog about them. I sincerely hope your sharing here, is indeed helping finally close some of those old wounds.

  3. Sorry that this is so difficult for you - it's so brave of you to share it. I hope it is cathartic for you to let it out.

  4. Keep at it, One Girl. We're with you. ;)

  5. You write with a burning intensity. I know it's a focus you wish you didn't have to have but I think you are right to do it.

  6. I understand completely what you mean by how your mother must have been feeling and doing.. but it was selfish nonetheless. I don't think she ever had the chance to grow up in her life with your father. She never matured. Obviously.

    You write really well Lovely Lady..

  7. Sorry, I have been AWOL - I was actually on a jury in a murder trial myself in the last couple of weeks. I have found - as far as memory goes - that it is a very unreliable thing. Each time you tell about something, you begin to remember it as you told it, rather than as it happened. This is true for everybody. Memory tends to rub off the rough edges, or to make sense of disparate elements that don't seem to hang together at first viewing. This is partly why your dad 'didn't look so bad' after you had other bad experiences. He was a monster. This 'not so bad' thought is one of the things that keep people returning to bad relationships or other situations. You have every right to remember things as you do, and to feel as you do about your mother. Relatives, religions, governments, teachers all try - sometimes "for your own good", more often so that THEIR vision will not be disturbed - to shame, argue, cajole, explain you out of seeing what you do see. What you saw and remember is your truth; it will shape your behavior, no matter what others think. It is not a 10-year-old's responsibility EVER to keep her mother out of jail; it IS a mother's responsibility to keep a child safe. That's the deal when you have a child. You do not need to listen or worry about WHY things happen; to be healthy you must remember as well as you can what DID happen, and let others cover their asses however they wish.