CARES... a Blanket, Some Stickers and a Left Hook

He sexually abused her on Saturday, she told me on Sunday and on Wednesday we were scheduled for CARES. 

Monday and Tuesday had been spent talking to my lawyer, the therapist and the detective.  I fell apart when I was alone; even if that meant just in the bathroom.  I smiled and tried to fake being okay in front of Ellie.  

For Ellie's part, she would not let me go anywhere without being next to me.  If I got up to leave the room, just to change the laundry, she’d ask, “where are you going?” and then she would follow.  It was as if we had a bungee cord attached to us and I couldn’t go farther than that bungee cord could pull.  Of course, I understood it and I didn’t say anything about it. I gave her lots of extra hugs and love.  She would wait outside the restroom for me.  She would walk to the mailbox with me.  She was fearful that she had just let a big secret out and I was now in danger. 

I prayed with everything I was that this was not going to threaten our plans.  We were to leave for Hawaii on Thursday.  It was a work trip, as usual.  I assumed it would turn into more of a getaway.  She knew what to expect and was excited to go.  There was no better time to get away.  The thought of having an ocean in between us and him was currently the only thing getting me through.  Please, please, don't let the lawyer say that we can't go.  

There was a lot of talk about the CARES interview with my lawyer as well as the therapist.  I was told that they look to the "reporting" parent as someone who might be telling their child to say something.  This is absolutely insane to me.  I cannot fathom that people actually do this.  The pain that we had just been in for only 72 hours was something I had never imagined.  To think that ANYONE would do this by choice is beyond what my brain can comprehend.  Because, it just wouldn't end there.  Your child would have to endure so much more.  I just didn't get it.  I didn’t give it a ton of thought, but purposefully didn’t tell Ellie about CARES until we arrived at the facility.

I was shaking on my way to the CARES appointment.  My head just kept thinking, "this really happened and she is going to have to talk about it to someone other than me." 

I was so sad.  My heart hurt. 

My baby was about to have to grow up so quickly. 

I had been practicing what I was going to say to Ellie all day.  I didn't want to say too much.  But, I wanted her to know what was happening.  I didn't want to say too much because I didn't want the chance of the to say "her mom led her this way...." 

Right before we went in, I sat in the car and I told her in order to get help, we have to tell people what happened. So, just like she told me on Sunday, she was about to tell nurses.  I told her that she needed to tell the entire truth.  And that she would not be hurt by him.  And neither would I.  I promised.  I answered her barrage of questions to the best of my ability but really didn’t know that much myself.  My main desire was for her to feel safe and know that this was a safe place.

She asked if I would be in the room with her and I told her that I would try to be, but I wasn't sure.  

I will be honest.  The way I was feeling right then, I didn't want to ever let her out of my sight again.  If I could, I would stay with her forever.  

The way that CARES worked was that they asked the parent back first and interviewed her/him and then they took the child back (alone) and did a physical exam as well as an interview.  The interview is done in a room with a one way mirror. On the other side was the detective. The child is informed of that.  It was also being videotaped so that Ellie would theoretically not have to tell her story again.  The child is informed of that as well.

I tried as hard as I could to buck the system.  I was not pleased with the idea of Ellie being in a room alone having to tell her story.  I just ached for her.  I wanted her to feel comfortable.  My heart was so sad.  

The interview with me was easy, though I cried through the entire thing.  This should not surprise anyone.  Who knew a person could have this many tears? 

I went out to the waiting room and there was Ellie, just fine.  Watching a movie, being watched by the CARES staff, having some goldfish, no issues.  She asked if I would come back and I told her that I couldn't.  I told her to be strong and she said she would be.  I also took the chance to remind her she was safe.

The tears flowed as Ellie walked back.  So strong, so tough.  

I was trying to imagine what was happening in the back as I sat in the front waiting room.  Mostly, I just wanted to throw up.  Nauseous and tired.  I hadn't slept in days. 

They finally got me from the back and I was brought to the interview room.  I saw Ellie and was happy that she looked okay.  

They explained their findings.  

They talked to Ellie and they reported that she seemed nervous to talk about what had happened. How could that be surprising? She was 6 years old.  That is so young.  Who knows what all had happened to her.  This was all she had talked about thus far.  She had been threatened by the man who abused her that if she told, he would hurt her mother.  And, now, she was talking to 2 strangers in a room about what had just happened, all while knowing that a detective was on the other side of the mirror and she was being taped. 

Damn straight she was nervous.  Of course she wasn't going to be "talkative."  Neither would I.  

She did tell them what happened.  She told them in all the repulsive details that made tears run down my face.  Disgusting details that a 6 year old should not know.  Nothing, certainly, that she could have made up.  

The issue came when Ellie said the following words:

“I'm not sure if it was on purpose or not.”  

When she was questioned further, she explained that they played what he called the “tickle game”.  She thought this might have been a different form of that same game.

I don’t want to get graphic on here, so I will try to explain that in no way could this have been any kind of game.  And the thought of a grown man playing a “tickle game” with a daughter he barely knows terrified the shit out of me even more.  (Mental note, dig into that information deeper). 

The 2 ladies escorted Ellie out and I, still a little, naïve, figured, here is where it comes down to making things happen.  At this point, the detective walked in the room.  It was the first time I had met him face to face. 

“That was really painful to watch, I’m sorry you and your daughter had to go through that,” he said. 

“Thanks,” I said, tears filling up my eyes.

“So, as you might understand, I don’t have enough information to go on to arrest him.”

No.  I didn’t understand that.  At what point was that said? What did I miss? My daughter just explained in gory details what had happened and you can’t arrest him? I was literally in shock and had to sit down. 

“I don’t get it, I’m sorry.” I said.

“Ellie said it might have been an accident and that they were playing a game. And we have that on tape. It will not hold up in court.”

Holy Shit.  Yes, a game called let me ruin your life.  A game called let me cut you with my fingernail in a place my finger should not be.  A game called oops, my clothes fell off and oh… it’s the tickle game. 

I was disgusted. 

I said, “She is six.  She is scared. He threatened my life if she told.  That is a lot hanging over her head.  You can see the fear in her.”

“I agree with all of that, but the courts wouldn’t convict him because of that.  And, it is her word against his. And, unfortunately, that is what we have for her testimony on camera”

Jesus.

“It isn’t over,” he said, “that is the good thing.” (boy, was he ever right).  “Just because I can’t go arrest him this minute doesn’t mean the case ends. I am going to go interview him and ask to inspect his house. I won’t have a warrant, so he won’t have to allow it.  Depending on how that goes, I might arrest him then. We will also get DHS involved”

I explained that we had plans to leave for Hawaii in the morning and asked if there was any reason we needed to stay.  He said no, go and get away, your little girl needs it. 

As I walked out of the room, I thought to myself, wow, our system is really fucked up.  You can’t believe a 6 year old because she is 6.  And so, he walks?  I understand the need for CARES, I believe it helps families cope after.  But I left disheartened. 

Ellie left with a blanket and a couple stickers.  And the first time asking:

 “are they going to arrest my dad?”

If I had a dime… maybe even a penny for the number of times she has asked, and fairly so, I believe, I could buy another house. 

A check in with the lawyer and an okay for Hawaii.  Please paradise, allow us some time to heal.   

6 Words. Now What?

“They hurt because of my daddy.”

Those words will forever ring in my head.  Those 6 words, when put together so horribly life changing.  And yet, of such little surprise.  And yet, hitting me like a ton of bricks. 

I wanted to weep for my little Ellie who had been through something I could only imagine and at the same time didn’t even want to start to.  Brave Ellie.  Stoic Ellie.  Wise beyond her years.  Such an old soul and leaving me wondering, were we just scratching the surface with those words. 

With everything that I was, I tried to remain calm.  I tried to show no emotion to those words that had just come out of her mouth. 

“What do you mean, E?”

“My daddy touched me.”

I could feel the HUGE swell of tears coming up and I knew that if she saw me cry, it would not be okay.  I could not break in front of her. I would bite right through my lip before that happened.  

“Come here, Ellie.” I gave her a huge hug and I could feel her finally let go.  Don’t do it, Amy, don’t do it.  I knew that if I started to cry, there would be no stopping.  She would get scared and maybe, just maybe that is what was keeping her silent.  “Sweetie, why didn’t you tell me last night?”

“He made me promise not to.” She said through her tears.  “He says he will hurt you if you found out.”

That fucking bastard. 

I have been taught not to toss the word hate around but boy, the hatred that I felt for this monster was out of control. 

My mind was racing.  I knew there was something I should do and there was some kind of protocol that I should probably be following, but I had no idea what it was.  I also knew that I needed to keep myself under control because I was about to crumble and my baby just became a goddamn statistic by a person who is suppose to love and care for her and keep her safe. 

Keep it together Emery, one thing at a time.

“Ellie, can you tell me exactly what he did to you?”

She shook her head no. 

“I can show you though.” She said as she wiped her tears and her bottom lip shook. Here she was, trying to brave for me... 

Jesus. 

She led me to the bedroom and had me lay down on the bed and there she showed me exactly what had happened. 

Tears ran down my face and I told her how wrong that was and how sorry I was.  It was not the time to ask if it had happened before, but there were so many questions I had. 

I wanted to make sure that she was okay.  I wanted her to know that he was wrong, not her.  She said she understood.  I explained that I needed to call some people because what he had done was very bad.  I needed to see what the right next move was because I wasn't sure.  

I asked her to lie in bed while I called my dad.  I was hoping he could guide me a little.  After all, aren't parents suppose to know what to do in situations like these? Wait a minute... crap! I was a parent! There went that idea. 

Unbeknownst to me, my parents were having a party, but thankfully, my dad did answer.  I gave him a brief overview and asked him what I needed to do next.  He said he would call my brother-in-law (at the time) who is a policeman and ask him and get right back to me. 

Within 5 minutes my phone rang again. RH said I needed to call the local cops and report it.  They may or may not come out and get a statement.  They would probably assign a detective to the case and he/she would take it from there. 

I checked on Ellie and went to work.

I called the non-emergency line and reported it.  The officer to whom I spoke asked if I wanted to do it over the phone or in person and I chose over the phone.  Enough trauma for a little girl in one day, we didn't need cop cars at our house too.  I told him what I knew, he told me a detective would get back to me that night and the detective would take it from there.

Now what?

Somehow, I had to go in and be a parent. 

Where is the fucking guidebook for this part?

I found Ellie lying in my bed doing nothing.  I asked if she wanted to talk about it.  She said no.  She knew I would get hurt by him if she did.  There was obviously huge fear.  (Mental note, call her therapist next time I get a minute).  Okay, let’s get our minds off it until the phone rings. 

We decided to start packing her suitcase for Hawaii.  Thinking of Hawaii, how could you not be happy?!. 

I got Ellie to bed early that night and the Detective called just after.  He was nice enough and asked the same exact  questions I had already answered.  The only new information was that he said I needed to get into see someone at CARES Northwest.  CARES is a medical program for the assessment of child abuse.  They do physical exams and interviews.  The Detective would be there for the interview – behind a one way glass – so, hopefully – Ellie wouldn’t have to tell her story more than once. 

As I hung up the phone, the reality of the day set in.  I crumbled.  How could someone do this? How could a dad do this to a daughter? How could someone do this? How? I was sick over it.  Literally sick. 

It was if I felt the entire weight of the world on me.  Every step was heavy.  

Sleep was not an option.  Instead, I watched as Ellie tossed and turned in her bed.  I wondered what else this precious little 6 year-old had endured.  So strong, this one.  Stronger than I could have ever been.   

Ah, the guilt, it was ridiculous. 

A silent promise to her that night. 

Though our fight might be long from over... 

I would never let her hurt her again.  

Supervised Visitations

Court is a surreal thing.  You are there, either with representation, or without.  1 or 2 people sitting on either side of the room; and the Judge in front.  “The Bar” separates those people and the rest who are there for either the case in front of the Judge at that time or another that might be being heard after.  There are generally 2 other people in front of the bar; the person keeping the notes, and another -  an assistant to the Judge. 

All of this continues day in and day out.  The idea that one man or one lady… the Judge here, has the final ruling on what happens is what baffles me.  Sure, you want to believe in our system, you want to hope that this Judge is going to know all that has taken place and have the person’s best interest at heart that they should (the child in family court), but do they? Do they spend enough time with each case to understand the idiosyncrasies of each case, or is it that each case is somewhat like a cookie cutter case and while some of the insides change just a little bit, the Judge wants the outside to look the same and will do whatever it is to make that happen?

I am a true believer that our system, the one we have in this glorious, rich, beautiful country of ours, is broken.  And it hurts those that it should protect, the children.

DP sat on the stand, sworn in and admitted to leaving.  He admitted to using cocaine, he admitted to using meth, marijuana and alcohol.  And then he said, that he was clean now.  He further explained that he came back because he wanted to have a life with his child and he was a different man then most.  Most men, especially black men, he went on, would just stay away, but, he, oh, he, wanted to be in his child’s life and was ready to do so. 

While I heard these words I knew we would be okay.  Surely, after admitting that he was a drug user, he would have to go through some kind of testing or counseling before anything else happened.  Ellie would certainly be safe from this man, a mystery man at this point in her life. 

My lawyer went on to question him.  She asked about the times he was in the psychiatric ward.  She asked if he took the medicine prescribed to him.  Or course he didn’t, I thought, and I was thrilled as I was sitting taller in my seat.  We are going to walk out of here and this is going to OVER.

When it came my time for questions, I was able to talk about the time that DP left.  The time that he was on all 4’s over me.  How scared I had become, the restraining order I had just gotten.  I talked about living at my aunts, I talked about my fear of him and how I felt that he added nothing to Ellie’s life as he was right now, but perhaps if he got help, we could revisit it later. 

As I sat down, the judge already had his ruling, he explained that he thought DP was right, not many men would come back.  It was good that he wanted to be involved and this was the first step.  He would have supervised visitation.

As the words came out of the Judge’s mouth, I saw my small daughter in my eyes and my heart fell to the floor.  I was in shock.  Had he not heard that he was going to make our lives’ a living hell? Had he not heard that he was a drug user? And who was he to believe he had stopped? Was he looking at the same man that I was?

Before I could make sense of anything, as the tears were rolling down my face the Judge said, that we would have to pick a supervisor.  I had always known of supervised visitations to be done by the state and for the parent doing the visiting to have to pay for them.  My lawyer suggested just that and the Judge, again, in my opinion, pro-DP, said that since “dad” didn’t have any money and didn’t have a job there would be no way for him to pay. So, let’s be fair and figure out another way. 

I’m sorry what?

Huh?

Did I just hear all that correctly?

So, because he is a worthless bastard who is living off the state, let’s give him pity and have WHO supervise my precious daughter and him???

As the Judge looked at me and said, “Mom, do you know anyone who would be willing to do the supervising?” I nearly became unglued.  Well, I did come unglued.  I started to explain how wrong I thought this all was and that nothing here seemed right and that he should be tested for drugs and he should be in counseling and that someone for the state should supervise.  It fell on deaf ears. 

The Judge repeated, “mom, any suggestions?”

I didn’t have any.  No one I knew would want to be around him.  I was stunned.  It was all moving so fast.  I shook my head no. 

“Dad, any suggestions?”

“Yes.”

Again, my mouth fell to the floor.  What on Earth was this man going to suggest?

“I’d like to suggest JH.”

Well, JH happens to be his ex-girlfriend.  Was he serious? As I said before, she was there.  The judge asked if she was willing to do it.  Of course she was.  Then he turned to me:

“Mom, and objections?”

“Yes, too many to know where to start.”

“Well,” said the Judge, “if you don’t have another person, this is who we are going to go with.  I will give you 3 minutes”

In the end, I had no one else to go with.  It would end up being JH, DP’s ex-girlfriend.  She and her husband lived in an apartment not far from Ellie and me.  Visitations would be once on every weekend for 2 hours and once during the week for 2 hours.  I would take Ellie there, meet JH in the parking lot and pick her up after.  The only people who were supposed to be in the apartment were DP, JH and Ellie.  But, who is to know if that is so or not.  Just one month shy of her 1 year birthday, I was taking Ellie to a woman she didn’t know, in a parking lot, handing her over, for her to take up to a man that she didn’t know.   And so, supervised-visitations began. 

60 Minutes is Not Nearly Enough

I would bet you have all seen Law and Order or maybe even Perry Mason, back in the day.  Not only do they find the person who did it, put them through the trial, hand them a verdict… but it is all done in 60 minutes and that is including commercials. 

I would like to go on record as saying that is bullshit. 

I had the guy.  I had step one checked off.  It should have been easy.  We now enter the phase of court.  And it is long and grueling.

In Washington County in Oregon State in family court, you are given one Judge and that Judge stays with you through your entire, shall we say, career, in the courts.  Our Judge comes with the following:

“Who do you have?” “I have Judge R.” “Ooooohhhh…”

The “Ooooohhhh”  is not a happy sound. It is a sound of pity.  He has a reputation of being sporadic.  He is very pro-both parents being involved no matter what the case is.  (as is Oregon in general – I have heard possible second only to one other state).  He has a background I have learned (yes, I have done my research) that when he was younger his parents divorced and his younger brother committed suicide.  In the suicide note was written that he did so in part because of his parent’s splitting up.  Through the years of getting to know him, I have learned that he will have his mind made up prior to the people involved in the case even entering the building.  Meaning, testimony doesn’t matter.  He comes with, in my humble opinion, a lot of baggage and I wonder at least weekly where we would be had we gotten another Judge. 

But, he was and is ours. 

Before meeting him, I’d have to get a lawyer.  I have had 3 now.  Changed for different reasons along the way.  Keep in mind while reading this, I am currently 8 years into this battle.  It just got more serious as the things DP did got more serious. 

So, we will start at the beginning. 

I hired a lawyer named CV (as you have seen no names just yet, hoping after this is settled and the final gavel is hit I can use them).  She was just out of law school, affordable and I figured I wouldn’t need much; just a plan to get him out of my life.  She actually only appeared in trial with me once; but she did help with a couple of other great things.

******

It was October 14.  I remember because it was his birthday.  It had been about 4 days since he and his sister had come by.  I had gotten several blank text messages from which I assumed was his new number.  A few calls with no messages.  I was trying to be okay with life; but knew hell was about to come. 

There was a knock on the door and I immediately knew it was him.  Ellie and I live in a house where there is a gigantic picture window on the second story.  We can see down below and I saw no car.  Ellie, who was walking already started off and I was chasing her, she was oblivious to the danger lurking outside our house.  The knocking persisted, only louder.  I sat Ellie in the kitchen on the floor and tried to quiet her.  I grabbed the phone ready to call 911.  Now came the yelling. 

“I just want to talk to you; I know you are in there.”  Knock, knock, knock. 

The knocking kept going.

I took Ellie to her room. 

I had the phone in my hand and I answered the door, foot at the base as to only be able to open it a little bit (oh, how much I have learned … don’t answer the door, people).  The door came swinging open, knocking me over and he walked past me to Ellie’s room. 

In a panic I rushed after him and started the call, he took the phone out of my hand and threw it, taking Ellie at the same time.  I was in hysterics. 

He picked Ellie up.  She was now in hysterics.  She didn’t know this stranger and he didn’t know how to hold her.  He tried to cradle her as he had done when she was first born.  I finally got her from him. 

“I am going to make your life a living hell; it is about to get very ugly” He said as he left. 

The only saving grace of that night is that I could get a restraining order.  It was granted to me the following day in a matter of seconds.  He, of course, tried to fight it, but there was no fighting that one. 

The other thing the CV helped me with is that some of DP’s stuff was still at my house.  He had left with only one suitcase of clothes the night he left.   I had packed the rest in boxes and he wanted it and that was fine with me.  The funny part is that he had sent a list of other items he thought he should have as well.  I am not making this list up.  Let me stop for a moment and say that his living arrangements at that time were that he was living with his ex-girlfriend and her new husband (yeah, I know).  So, as I share this list, please remember that he did not have a house of his own, nor had he bought any of the things he was asking for. But, here is his list (I won’t share them all… just the ones I find most amusing):

1 King Size Bed

Dresser

Refrigerator

Washing Machine

Dishwasher

Cordless Telephone

Lawn Mower

So, just to get this straight, you would like to take the Fridge that keeps the food cold for your daughter, that you have not spent a penny on, food or fridge, and put it where?

Needless to say, when I got the list, I was beyond… well, I don’t even know.  I’m looking at the list now, which is actually 3 pages, pretty big font, but 3 pages, and just in awe of it all. 

****

The final thing that CV helped with is going to court the first time.

I was terrified.  I had heard some of the things already about Judge R.  I had no idea what to expect.  I didn’t know if DP would have representation or really what he would be asking for.  So many unknowns the first time you go in. 

My hope, of course, was that he would not be allowed to see Ellie.  He had just threatened us.  He was obviously having issues with drugs and/or alcohol.  This list of items he wanted from my house would have to be ironed out. 

I have always attended court with just my lawyer.  I believe that this is a case between DP and me.  I don’t think that it needs to be a circus with many people watching.  He, on the other hand, brings his ex-girlfriend, her husband, her sister and her mom.  I still have yet to understand it.  I was surprised to see them there the first time.  And still am surprised today. 

He was representing himself.  The Judge thought that was admirable. 

Once those words came out, I knew we were in for a long day. 

From 20 days to 10 months ... He disappeared

From the day that DP left, at 20 days old, until the day Ellie was about 10 months old, I didn’t hear anything from him.  I was in off and on contact with his dad and his sister who lived in Florida.  I had never met them, but I sought them out to try to figure out what to do with his belongings.  I wanted them out of my house and I wanted to close this chapter in my life. 

I went from many feelings of sorrow to just feeling pissed.  How dare he do this to me? To us? I was left with about 2 months to find day care for Ellie.  To go from being a “family” (how quickly those definitions changed in my head) to being a single mom (now … present time – more of a family than ever … but, going through it… it was hard).  It took me about a week to tell anyone that he had left. 

Then it was even harder because no one could find him.  His friends had no idea, his family didn’t hear from him, he literally fell off the face of the Earth.  After about 3 months, I started to pack his things.  I found powered substances and, because he was a chef, thought they just might be baking powder or soda.  However, it was not.  It was cocaine.  Then came the pile of weed I found.  I was blind-sided that he had been doing drugs under my roof.  That he had left the drugs there.  Completely baffled still that I had no clue.  Was I seriously that stupid? His phone was turned off and there was no sign of him anywhere in the city. 

I figured he was dead. 

Soon, I felt nothing. 

Ellie and I would be fine on our own.  Certainly not the way I had it planned, but this was our new life and it would have to work.  We were not given a choice. 

I got a call from his father one night (not a warm, fuzzy man) and he asked if I had heard from DP.  No, I said.  Well, he had decided that he was going to call the local police and do a missing persons report.  The call had come late at night and I asked that they not get me involved.  #1. I had nothing to contribute.  #2. The baby was asleep and I was headed that way and I frankly didn’t want police coming to visit my house.  I believed that people in my neighborhood were talking enough already. 

Shortly thereafter, there was a knock on my door.  The police.  Great.  I didn’t tell them much. Only that I hadn’t hear from him in several months and I wasn’t interested in what they found. 

I learned the next day that they found him.  He was with someone named LH.  She was the mother of his ex-girlfriend.  My emotions got even more on the side of not caring as now that I knew he was alive and didn’t care about his daughter, my patience was zero. 

****

I remember it being a beautiful day out and Ellie and I going for a walk to Walgreens.  She loved to be outside and we were enjoying the weather.  My phone was ringing off the hook with a number that I didn’t recognize.  I hadn’t been answering those numbers because I was worried that something big was about to happen.  I figured if someone needed to talk to me, they could leave a message and I’d get back to them. 

Finally a message. 

It was DP’s sister.  She had come to town from Florida and she was going to stop by my house with DP. 

My heart had never beat THAT fast as it did when I heard those words.  I didn’t want to see him, I didn’t want to see her.  I had no interest in any of it.  What makes her think that she could just do that? I was horrified.  I got Ellie inside from our walk and tried to think things through.  My world was starting to turn again. 

I would just call her back, hope to get her voice mail, and tell her no.  If she came anyway, I would just not answer the door.  All of that seemed easy. 

I did just that.  I got the voice mail.  I said, I didn’t want them coming by, it wasn’t right.  And then I hung up and went about our night.  When it came to about 9pm, I thought she had listened.  I felt good about it all.  Ellie was in bed, I was finishing up some work and then there was a knock on the door.  Who shows up at 9 on a “school night?” Especially when you have been asked not to?

I was furious.  The doorbell just kept ringing.  They obviously knew I was there.  If that continued, the baby would wake up.  I opened the door and a ghost of the person I knew was there.  It wasn’t DP.  This person was 30 pounds plus lighter.  And he didn’t weigh that much to begin with.  You could see every vein in his neck.  His face was hallow. I had to look away because it was disgusting to look at.  His sister, probably 6 inches taller than both of us stood “over” us both. 

“Ellie is asleep and I asked you not to come.” I said, not even letting there be an exchange of pleasantries. 

She introduced herself.  I did the same back.  And  then she asked if DP could just see Ellie. 

I said no. 

She asked why and I reinforced the fact that it was late, Ellie was on a schedule.  I then went on to say that if he really wanted to see her, he would have done something in the last 10 months.  I took over a bit by going on a diatribe of questions: where had he been for 10 months, what had he been doing, how could someone do that, etc…

His sister jumped in and said, “that is not what tonight is about.  Tonight is about him seeing his daughter.  It will help him heal.”  What the Fuck? Heal? And since when did it become about him?

No.  They would need to leave. 

Well, couldn’t he just sneak in her room and see her?

No.

I was fearing now that I would have to call the police; the same ones who were just here a couple nights prior. 

DP still had not said a word. No eye contact had been made.  The entire interaction was surreal.  Was he so messed up that he couldn’t speak? My head was literally spinning.  I was praying that Ellie would not wake up.  I just wanted them off my property. 

I finally said that I was going to shut the door. 

His sister said, so you are keeping him from his daughter?

I believe you could see my heart pounding.

I politely said, “she is our daughter.” And yes.

She said, “then I guess we will see you in court.”

****

The good news is that I had already hired a lawyer.

I was going to get full custody of Ellie when he was missing, but had only done the leg work of finding an attorney and retaining her. 

At this point, with his sister saying, we will see you in court, I still figured, I would leave it up to them to do the initiating.  Sadly, though, that night did change the way I lived.  I now looked behind me and in front of me every single time I left my house.  I checked around my house as I pulled in.  I was highly alert of everything I did and everywhere I went.  The happy-go-lucky life we had went out the window.  He was back … and he wanted Ellie.