Heather's Story Home Page

  Page 1 - Home
Page 2 - It’s just a matter of
Page 3 - They’re Survivors
Page 4 -
It’s not Rocket Science

It’s just a matter of...

... Time. 

 

You’re wondering … “Why would he start out a story like that?” and you’re saying, “Not only does it sound silly, but you didn’t even bother to capitalize.”  It may seem ridiculous to you now, but by the time that I’m finished …They’ll be words that you’ll never forget.

 

Although I’ve always tried to be tender and remain a gentleman, from time to time, my rough edges come to the surface … And I’m just as good as any man is for bringing out the wrath in a woman.  I remember one incident when a female threw a drink in my face.  She was a little thing, but after she threw that second drink right into my eyes and then tried to block my escape … I slapped the hell out of her, shoved her out of my path and made my getaway.  I’m not proud if it, but most males know that many females are quite capable of doing whatever it takes, to get their way.  This narrative goes way beyond all of that.  Here’s how it all started…

 

As I earlier wrote about my children and remembered their childhood, this story began developing and took on a life of its own … But it didn’t seem to fit in well anywhere except here.  This is a tough story for me to tell because it involves something I’ve never had much exposure to.  This is a story of domestic violence and spousal abuse … And time.

 

Until a very special Babysitter came into my life, I never really thought about it much.  I just figured that if a female really wanted to get out of a bad relationship, all she had to do was just get up and leave.  And there’s something else I never quite understood ... “If they don’t thrive on it so much,” I thought, “why in the world do they keep going back?”  In casual conversation, I’ve even heard others say ... “It’s a two-way street.  It’s not always the fellow’s fault and sometimes, maybe these women deserve what they get.”  For a while I tolerated that line, but over the years my perspective has changed a lot.  I came to realize that this is not just a female issue.  Any way you cut it, males are the cause of this cruelty.  So sit back, get comfortable ... And pay attention!  I’m going to tell you about this former Babysitter of mine. 

 

She was not the normal Babysitter.  No, she was far, far, from that.  She was young when I first met her and compared to me she still is.  I’d say she was fifteen or so back then, when she began helping out the neighbors some with them and their kids.  In addition to that, she took care of our boys when my wife was having surgery and while I was working, she took up the slack.  What makes her so special is not only how much she helped us, but also how well she has dealt with the later trials in her life.  She came to our aid then, she’s helped many other people since then, and she’s far from finished yet.  It’s really rather foggy to me, as to where she was and from whence she came, but just when I needed her the most ... That’s when the Babysitter came. 

 

Now, I’m going to tell you something ... This girl loved kids!  She watched over our boys as if they were her own.  She loved them, and just because she was that way, she even took them with her on trips to see her friends ... Hundreds of miles away.  We could really trust her with them.  Yes, in many ways, she was just like a little mother hen.  She must’ve really liked it, because lord knows we didn’t pay her much.  Time passed and my wife got a little better.  She could get up on her own now, so the Babysitter moved on.  Right before she left, I told her if she ever needed anything or I could help her out in any way, to please let me know.  Shortly thereafter, the Babysitter left. 

 

A few years passed and I still hadn’t heard from her.  I didn’t even know exactly where she was.  I did know that she was now married and had kids of her own.  She lived in the next county over, which was not too far away.  I was working the third shift and I was busy.  It was in the wee hours of the morning when my Dispatcher called.

 

“H-551!”  (that was my Highway Patrol call number)  “A female subject who identified herself as Heather just called.  She said that it is an emergency!  She gave me her number and here it is ... She abruptly hung up, but she wants you to call her right back.”

 

Well, here I was in the middle of nowhere.  I was busy and I didn’t have a cell phone.  I guess it was a good twenty minutes or so before I could call her back. 

 

When I called, her husband answered and said she wasn’t there.  He sounded like he was high on something.  In the background, I could hear a commotion going on, but not one peep did I hear from her.  “But something must be wrong,” I thought, and “with all this time that has passed, she’s never called me once!” ... “Damn, where is Heather and what’s going on?”  I kept him on the phone as long as I could because in the background, I kept hearing thumps and unusual noises.  But since I didn’t know exactly where he was and since there’s no law against getting drunk at home ...Finally, as confused as I still felt, I got off the phone.  The next day, I tried again to call her at the same number.  Again he answered and said she wasn’t there, and he didn’t know where she was.  I didn’t want to meddle but still I wondered ... “What’s going on with Heather?”  I guess the best way to continue with this story is to just lay out the sequence of events and then let you know where I fit in.

 

Her husband was brought up and exposed to violence towards, and suppression of, women.  Although he was older than she was, he had insecurities of his own to deal with.  He always had to know where she was and what she was doing.  I guess the best way to say it, is that he was overly protective and jealous by nature.  He had known her since she was twelve years old and by the time that they married, had come to think of her as his possession. 

 

She was raised up right ... With strong male role models who were secure in their manhood.  She matured early, had a mind of her own and before most of us would even dream of doing it … She struck out on her own. 

 

She didn’t think about it much when he showed concern for her whereabouts, because she did like the attention.  Yes, the signs of abuse were already showing, but she didn’t know what those signs were. 

 

It was about a month before they got married that the abuse began.  She was pregnant when he shoved her to the ground and she wondered ... “Am I making a mistake going into this relationship?”  She hoped it might just be drug related and things would get better.  And she also felt this was her best option, so she went ahead and got married anyway.  They were married and before long his insecurities surfaced more with his continuous drug use.  Soon, the accusations started and the beatings began.  After abusing her, he’d sober up some and apologize … She’d give him another chance and they’d reconcile. 

 

She began to walk on eggshells and tried to be more tender with him, because as most any therapist will tell you … It was partially her fault.  But her efforts to make it right didn’t help any ... The beatings intensified.  Slowly but surely, the abuse became more frequent and violent.  He learned pretty quickly that if he gave her a black eye or busted her lip, people would start asking questions.  So, he began beating her in areas that wouldn’t show.  He was learning how to do it.  He was becoming a professional wife-beater … He was running the show!  Then the big day came.

 

One day, while their children were at his mother’s house and the two of them were home alone … A major beating occurred.  He’d had just about all he could stand of her mouth and he was strung out on drugs.  He was a lot larger than she was and he was certainly not afraid of his little wife.  If he couldn’t get her attention with his fists, he certainly would with his pistol and assault rifle.  He figured he was a real man and this time he would make it plain to her.  Yes, this was the proper time.  He would show her now … He was the boss!

 
He accused her of an infidelity that she was not guilty of, but he thought he knew better … So he just went ahead and began to beat the living hell out of her right then and there.  (Somewhere during her torture is when she called my Dispatcher and tried to locate me.  But just as the rest of the system has done, when she needed me the most ... I was nowhere around)   He beat her some more.  She fought back, but he was stronger ... And he loved to see the terror in her eyes.  He tortured her with pliers.  He squeezed them onto her small fingers and toes, and even onto her delicate earlobes, before he blackened her sensitive eyes.  He made her look up at the picture of their two children and say goodbye, and then he told her … This would be the last time she saw them!  At gunpoint, he made her write notes to them and then her parents … Saying goodbye.  

 

Even then he wasn’t satisfied!  With a broomstick, he beat her some more … And there was a lot more damage done than we’ll ever see.  He wrapped a belt around her neck and began choking the life out of her.  But it must not have been her time to die ... The belt broke.  His accusations continued and he demanded to know who her lover was.  After three hours of beatings, telling the truth, that she wasn’t having an affair, wasn’t working.  Her sense of survival finally kicked in and she tried the only other option she had ... She began lying.  She made up a story and gave him a name … And it was only then that the dreadful beatings came to an end.  Although she had asked him numerous times to go ahead and pull the trigger of the assault rifle he threatened her with, he backed off.  He was content at last ... Because by now he had beaten her almost to death. 

 

Maybe he began to feel a little guilty now, because he allowed her to call a friend to come and take her to the Hospital.  But the friend had only one hour to get there, or he would kill her or whoever else came down their driveway.  There he sat.  This was the height of his manhood.  He watched every move she made and he knew how to use the firearms he carried.  He was in charge now!  Never again would he take any crap from his half-dead, one hundred pound wife. 

 

The friend came in the nick of time and took her to the Hospital, and even as they escaped down the driveway … He stood there with his assault rifle aimed at their backs.  The Police Department came to the Hospital and listened to her story.  They then took pictures of her now not-so-pretty face.  Although she gave them all the details and pressed charges against him, the police never even went to his door.  He stayed right where he was … He didn’t go anywhere.  Warrants were drawn out for him, but never served … And not one police officer ever confronted him!  Except for her statement and photo, not one piece of evidence was ever collected … And there’s more. 

 

Only after his Father finally talked him into taking a ride, did he turn himself in.  He was locked up until the court date, but because of no real police work ... The District Attorney didn’t have much of a case.  Although the charges were very serious ... “Assault with a Deadly Weapon,” “First Degree Kidnapping” and “Assault with a Deadly Weapon Inflicting Serious Injury with Intent to Kill,” and he was facing fifty-two years in prison ... The DA offered him a plea bargain of three measly years.  But he was confident, not only did his family have friends in high places, but he really didn’t think he’d done much of anything wrong.  He declined the plea bargain and decided to gamble on a trial.  Big mistake for him and a lucky break for her ... The Jury found him guilty of all charges and sentenced him to 24 years in the NC Dept. of Corrections.  But we all know how that goes … He ended up serving much less than half of that.  And still, we wonder why these women keep going back … We’ve been so blind!  It’s because that by allowing slaps on the wrists, we condone it!  It’s because we let them right back out again and abusers don’t pay for their crimes, and they have no reason to expect to … That’s why!

 

Heather's Story Home It’s just a matter of They’re Survivors It’s not Rocket Science

Heather's Story - One of the many stories from his book Ole Man on the Porch

Voices Crying is a part of theBlountWeb Family of Web Sites - For Information Contact Steve Speer - [email protected]
I am not ashamed of the gospel of Christ.