The End is in Sight

Our court battle (and, I do mean battle) has been over for just over 10 weeks and I still am finding it hard to sit and write the "ending"... For a while I thought it was because I didn't want to think about things. Then I thought maybe it was because I had a lot of other things going on in my life.  Now I realize, It is because I want to do it justice and I am afraid I can't... The accumulation of YEARS of my life and my daughters life all came down to this one day... AND WE WON...

It was not a huge, grand finish, like I somewhat wanted.  But, it is over.  100% over.

And, in writing it, I want to express every detail because it is crystal clear in my mind.  And, I worry I will fail with that task.

Buckle up, and I will do the best I can do with the most important things I think you might want to know after this long journey...




Court was currently set for April but it turns out our first and most important witness, DJ, Ellie's therapist wasn't going to be in town.  We made a motion to change the date and the next available was June 4.

At the beginning of May preparation for the trial got underway.  More correspondences between my attorney and myself.  So I wasn't taken too off guard when I got an email late May 15th.

Then I started reading.

DP's attorney was pulling out the case.  He was saying he couldn't represent his client anymore for several reasons and wanted off the case.  Apparently, you have to put in a request to be taken off, we (my side) have the right to argue, if we want, and then the judge decides whether that lawyer can be let go or not.

My attorney suggested not arguing, saying most of the time judges grant this particular motion.  Waste of money and time to argue.

We continued to get ready: lists of questions for me, subpoenaing our witnesses, lists of questions for the witnesses (I am not entirely sure that is what you call them at this point, but that is what I am going with), etc.

Getting ready for this trial now wasn't as clear cut as before.  Now, with DP representing himself, it was a crap shoot of what would happen.  No legal guidelines would be followed by him.

Ellie had an appointment to meet with her lawyer, SH, to make sure SH was representing Ellie as clearly as possible.  We sat, this time, in the big conference room.  Chairs triple Ellie's size.  10 of them around a huge wooden table. Ellie, her lawyer and myself.  Feeling small in a gigantic room. Ellie's lawyer, though big in spirit and personality, isn't much bigger than Ellie... I always feel huge next to the to two of them, but in this room, even felt small.

"I want to be there." Ellie said speaking of the court date that was approaching.

SH explained why that wasn't a good idea.  I had done so about 3 dozen times, but Ellie's drive to have the judge really hear HER was strong.  She wasn't letting it go.
SH, who is all of 85 pounds, a very petite young woman, really put her foot down after the third plea.

"Ellie, I will not allow you to be in the same room as your dad."
Ellie correct her with his name, instead of "your dad."

She then asked, is there anything you want to tell DP?

Ellie took the 8X11 yellow legal pad from SH's hands.  She wrote "I HATE U" and set down the pen.
The room was eerily quiet.

Those are strong words.

In our house we don't use the word "hate."

25 cents in a jar, if you do.  To Ellie those words are as serious as you get.

My little girl just stared straight ahead.

SH finally broke the silence.  She asked if there was anything specific Ellie wanted her to tell the judge.  Ellie asked if she could write the judge a letter.  SH thought that was a great idea and said she would give that to me and Ellie for homework.  We were there on a Wednesday and she'd like to have it by Friday.

"No," Ellie said.  "I want to write it now."
Never one to stand in her way, SH suggested we take the legal pad and I transcribe as Ellie spoke.  She'd excuse herself and be back in a bit.
Ellie started speaking.

The words that came from my little girl's mouth were intense.  She spelled it out for Judge R. as if she were an eloquent woman with many more years of wisdom than she and I had together.  She had obviously been thinking about what she would say and she was ready with words so powerful tears burned my eyes.  Someday, if Ellie wants to share that letter, I will encourage her.  It is not for me to do here.

Instead, it is for me to say our system is messed up.  For any child to have to go through what Ellie has had to endure - not just the pain of what her own flesh and blood did to her - but what the judicial system continued to do to her time and time again, dragging this mess out, is ugly.  It is hurtful and wrong and someday I hope to do something to change it.

We gave the letter to SH and I told her I hoped it was the last time I set foot in her office. She smiled and hugged us both and Ellie and I were on our way.

                                                       ********

Just before you go to court, the lawyer(s) write a summary of what they are going to say to the Judge and the court and present it to the Judge prior to the actual hearing.  I am not entirely sure of the hows and the whys behind this, but in my head it makes sense to re-familiarize the Judge with what has happened (the document also states the history of the case) and what is going to happen.  I would assume people in that role see many cases and can't keep them all clear in their heads. Then it basically also states what our side is going to present.  I think this gives the judges some time prior to court to think about what they are going to say...

Sitting with the pre-court documents from my lawyer and Ellie's lawyer a couple nights prior to our big day, my heart was so heavy. Just remembering what we had been through. And, also looking at all of the facts of this very clear cut case.  The time, energy, money, pain, sweat and tears that had gone into all of this made no sense.

Sleep was no where to be found as I played every scenario over in my head for our next appearance in court.

The day finally came.

I was, of course, first to be there. Always had been in the past, why start anything different now.

DJ, Ellie's therapist came next.  Then Ellie's attorney and finally mine.
CS (the person who said DP needed a psycho-sexual evaluation), our final witness was going to be showing up about an hour into the hearing.

DP... no where to be found.

Not there.

Court was on for a 9:30 start.

At 9:30, I knew in my heart, he wasn't coming.

As hard as I could, I pleaded with my lawyer to not let the Judge continue this.  Of course, it was not in her hands, as none of it had been all along, and she agreed with me, but I was fearful that he would again say, "we will come back in 6 months..."

9:45, "will you please stand for the Honorable JR.".

I stood. Shaking.

My side was full.
The other side of the courtroom empty.

Judge R had us sit and started speaking.

I will paraphrase, "Amy Emery is here with her counsel... yada yada yada... DP is not here."

Then he looked at me. He said, "the court has wronged you and your daughter and we owe you a sincere apology.  I am sorry you have had to go through so much to prove what you had been saying all along.  I am sorry for your daughter, because I can't imagine what she has been through and I hope you will tell her I have said that. DP will have no rights to Ellie, no access, no medical records, no access to school records.  He does not have the right to appeal."

I was a heaping pile of mush.  It was over.
The words I had so longed to hear, were spoken.

The apology, though it didn't matter a whole lot, was even sincere.  It was heart felt.  He knew, to some degree, that he had made this terrible tragedy go on far too long.

The good news on the back end, is because it was so complex and painstakingly drug out, DP cannot appeal. Done. Shut. Case closed. Gavel hit.

I sat, and cried.  They were tears of happiness and relief.  Tears that had been building for years.  Literally years.

Finally, I was able to come back to life a bit, hugs were given, congratulations were said and I felt happy.

That happiness had been seriously void from our lives for awhile.  This fight, this battle was so hard and stressful. And though we weren't constantly in court, or constantly talking about it, it was at the root of our everyday.  There was no way around that...

And, now it was over.

I drove straight to Ellie's school because I could not wait to tell her.
When I got to the front office, they called her out of her classroom and I stood in the hall.

As she rounded the corner she saw me and her gait slowed a bit.  Of course she wasn't expecting me.  She might have even been so busy in school work that she forgot was happening that day.  She was surprised to see me standing there.

I bent down to be at her level - she was still many feet away from me.

"we won." I said.

"We won?" She asked back

"YES." I yelled, probably too loudly for a hallway.

Ellie sprinted toward me and barreled into my arms.  I held her so tightly in that hallway and we both cried. Tears of joy this time.  It had been awhile.

The New Year

* This occurred January 2012

When the Judge continued to put off a decision, it was disheartening.  Many people said, "how great to not have to deal with it for another X months..."

Fill in the blank for the "X"... while we had been through the process it had been 1, it had been 6, it currently was 4.

If only it were that easy.

Sure, we didn't have another court case, we didn't have to see the Judge, I didn't have to take out my "lawyer suit." But on other hand, we didn't get a court case, we didn't get to see the Judge and I didn't get to take out my "lawyer suit."

It was hard to not be heard.  It was gut-wrenching to continue waiting.  Exhausting.  The thought of things continuing was always on our heads.  Even though we didn't speak of it directly.

Waiting.

We would go back on April 18th.

The Year Ends and Things Start Happening

* The following events occurred December 2011.

It was time to go back to court. Mid-December and our side hadn't heard anything.  I wasn't going to be caught off guard, however, if DP had come up with the other $400 he needed.  I was ready.  His side liked to sneak things in last minute.  It wouldn't be the end anyway.  We would just head to see Dr CS.

Sure enough, the day of court was nothing else than the lawyers talking to the Judge. (a time and money suck) DP had come up with the money.  I was somewhat excited.  My feeling was, let's have someone else listen to how crazy this whole thing was and get things moving.

Dr. CS wanted to meet with DP first, then me, and then Ellie. Ellie was excited.  She wanted to be heard and felt this was a step forward.

My meeting was one week after DP's.  She didn't tell me how his went.  I walked in with my folder of things that had occurred, now about 2 inches thick.  I knew everything like the back of my hand. Where to find documents, what the key dates were, etc.  I had lived this. I was not worried.

The interview was scattered, in my opinion.  I had been drilled and questioned before, but Dr CS had no rhyme or reason to go from one topic to another to another and back.  My head was spinning a bit trying to figure out where she was going.

When I got a minute to think about things after, I believe she did this purposefully.  To see if I was making things up, to see if I would get tripped up on statements made and then double back on things.  It was brilliant, when you think about it.

I got a call a couple days later.  My lawyer.

Ellie's appointment was going to be canceled.  She didn't need to meet with Dr. CS.

DP's one-hour with her had been enough for her.  She wanted him to have some testing done.  This would consist of two things... Psychosexual testing and a Cognitive Assessment.

She said that there was no point in having Ellie go through any more until we got the results back.

The tests cost a total of $2500.  He would have to pay.

And, again, we were at a standstill until he did.

The Hospital

** As a reminder, this occurred last year. March 2011. 

The doors closed and my eyes filled with tears.  And then it was all over.  I was a puddle. 

My mom and I embraced and cried.  For, I have no idea how long.  We were outside the locked door on the floor that kept Ellie safe. 

We decided to meet at my house.  I had no desire to talk to anyone.  I wanted to crawl under the covers of my bed and stay there until I could have my daughter back.  This was not what our lives were suppose to be like.

I knew I had to let some people know.  I had several messages.  I hadn’t realized how long we had been in the hospital – but it had been several hours. 

I sent a pretty blanket email to several a group of friends and then called my lawyer.  I knew she had to know.  She wasn’t available, so I called her assistant.  Immediately, I broke into tears retelling the events of the past few days. 

“So, Ellie is in the psychiatric ward?” he asked again, trying to wrap his head around it.

“Yes.” I confirmed.

He said he would have DR call me, but I didn’t want to talk to anyone.  He said he was sorry and we hung up.  The rest of the drive home is a blur.  Once there, my mom insisted I take a shower and then lay down.  My phone was ringing off the hook as news spread among my friends, but again, I was not interested in talking. What was there to say?

I wanted to pick up a few things for Ellie now that I knew a little better what she was facing and so we made a trip to Walgreens before we headed back to see her.  We had really just left.  But, the only visiting times were lunch and dinner so, we were heading back.  I wondered what she would look like and how her day had been.  She was the youngest there at the moment. She was also the only female.  Knowing my Ellie, she was holding her own. 

The routine was you went to a special elevator, went to a special floor which contained 2 locked doors.  One was for the older kids, one the younger.  Each had a phone.   You picked it up and automatically someone at the desk answered.  You identified yourself and if you were on the list of approved visitors, you were let in.  Each time, it was gut-wrenching. Each time, I was reminded that DP was not allowed.  I was reminded at the peace of mind that gave Ellie. 

The first night, I thought would be the hardest.  Afterall, the only time she had been away was with family and once or twice at friends.  This was HUGE.  They talked to me about possibly putting her on some medication to help her sleep.  I had fought medication all this time.  Her therapist had mentioned it before, but I wanted to try not to use it, if at all possible.  And yet, here we were. 

Ellie had had an okay afternoon.  She was okay.  I can’t say she was much better.  She reminded us several times that DP was not allowed on the floor.  That was the saving grace right now.  If that is what was holding her together, then I was all for it.  I would use that too.  We put some things around her room to make it a little brighter.   And watched her eat dinner.  She was happy she was able to order anything she wanted; that was pretty cool.  She introduced us to the boys, in so much as just telling us about them.  They had been nice to her and welcomed her.  There was a nurse she especially loved and who I believed had taken a special liking to Ellie as well.  She felt okay about spending the night. 

I was introduced to a watchman, of sorts, who told me he would be outside Ellie’s room and make sure she was okay and I could call him every hour if I needed to.  I told him to be ready. 

The visiting hour was up too quickly.  I hid a special chocolate bunny for Ellie to find after we left and we hugged and kissed her good night.  She was locked safely behind us. 

My parents left soon after we got home. 

Then it was just me.  I should say, me and Bell. 

It had been awhile since I hadn’t had Ellie around and the house was quiet.  Too quiet.

I called to check on her and she was taking a bath. 

That night I believe I called 3 times.  She was fast asleep each time.  They had given her something to help her sleep. Just some Melatonin at this point.  I think she would have slept, regardless.  It was probably the first time in a long time she truly felt safe.  Like the man who had hurt her so badly could not get her.  She was protected by a locked door and security.  This is where she needed to be.

The following day, Saturday, after no sleep, I was so anxious to see her.  My mom came up to meet her for lunch and we headed over.  She was happy to see us.  She was excited about the small things – once again that she could order pretty much anything, that she had found the chocolate rabbit.  And the big things – DP could not get her.  We checked out the itinerary for the day.  And she seemed okay with everything.  They had art therapy, music therapy, small groups, one-on-ones.  Her therapist happened to be the doctor on call that weekend and she came as well to meet us and talk to me about medication.  At this point, it might be prudent to put Ellie on a low dose anti-depressant.  After talks with a nurse yesterday, she was diagnosed with Suicidal Ideation and Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome.  As much as I was against it initially, I caved.

After visiting with her, my mom headed home. 

I tried to get on with something in my days, but had nothing.  I wanted to curl up and watch the clock until it was time to see her for dinner.  I checked in with my lawyer.  She had sent an email to DP saying that visitation was off (it was suppose to start Sunday) and gave him the reason.  She said that Ellie was in a hospital and had suicidal ideations and needed to be there.  She further asked that he not try to see her and even if he did, he would be turned away.  Monday we would have more information on the legal side. 

I felt good about that.

I decided I needed to get some things for Ellie so I told my close neighbors about what had happened.  Ever lovely and supportive, they listened and let me cry.  They made lovely cards for her so I could take them to her.  It started what would be great colorful things keepsakes for Ellie to enjoy at the hospital and look back on after.

I started to think about my week ahead.  I wanted to be at every single lunch and dinner.  I didn’t want to miss any of them.  This happened to coincide with one of the busiest weeks of work.  I had been scheduled to be out of town two days and didn’t know how to handle it. I also wanted to, of course, be there when she got out and home probably several days after.  By my mom’s advice, I held off on anything because at that point, we didn’t know how long she would be there.  I could make it to most days, missing one lunch and still get to where I needed to be. 

********

Sunday, early, there was a knock on the door. 

It was L and DP.  They were there to get Ellie for the visit.  I had not slept in several days now and I could not believe who was at my door.  This was the last thing I wanted/needed to face.  I don’t remember the last time I had a conversation with DP.  I can’t remember the last time we were face to face. 

I opened the door and L said, “we are here to get Ellie.”

“DP, haven’t you read your email?” I asked, ignoring L.

“Um… have I?” he turned to L.

What the fuck? That was just weird.  Did he just ask her if he checked his email?

“Why?” L asked.

“Is he not capable of having a conversation on his own?” I asked L, now raising my voice.

DP just stood there.  As if he literally weren’t .  Really. 

I wasn’t sure what to make of what I was watching, but I was in no mood. 

“Ellie is in the hospital.  She is not here. Check your email. You have one from Friday.”

“Why is she in the hospital? Which one?” L asked

What the fuck was going on?

“I am not telling you which one.  Neither of you.  She is in there because she is suicidal.”

“She is too young to be suicidal.” L said, obviously having studied child psychology sometime in her past. Who the hell was she telling me this bullshit on my front step?

I became irate.  I was done with this conversation.

“Well, she is not too young. And I am done with this. It is all in the email.  DO NOT try to find her.” I put way too much emphasize on the last part and slammed the door.

I called my lawyer, relayed the story and she said she would need to fix it. She understood, though.  I had apparently stepped over a line.  I should have not yelled, nor should I have told him the last part.  He should have known it from the previous paperwork.  At that point, I didn’t care.  I could have and wanted to say so many other things.  Truth is, she was in there because of him.  I could have and wanted to say that.  I wanted to have him understand that.  But, truth is, he either wasn’t capable or didn’t care. 

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.   

One Answer and Your World Changes

(So hard to write)

5 hours. 

300 minutes

18000 seconds

That is how long he had her June 26, 2010.  

*******

He dropped her off, placing her down in between the first and the second glass openings as always.  There was the same whisper in her ear and she moved closer to me. 

I squeezed her when I got her and took her hand to walk to our car.  I said something along the lines of getting a good parking spot and she let out a small laugh.  I told her I missed her and she said “me too.” 

When we got in the car, I asked how things had gone. 

Fine.

“Let me guess,” I said trying to be funny.  “Chuck E Cheese, Wunderland or Safari Sam’s.” I said. 

“No,” she said back.

“What?”

I kind of laughed.

“We went to his house she said.”

“Well, that is different.” I said.  “what did you do there?”

“He made me watch a documentary on Michael Jackson.” She said.

“Oh, was it good” I asked?

“No, I didn’t want to watch it,” she said. 

“Well,  why was it so important?” I asked.

“I don’t know, mom.”

I could tell with the last “mom” she was pretty much done talking about it.  I decided to let it go and we continued home.  When we got home, it was still early in the day, but Ellie didn’t feel like doing anything.  She was interested in getting in her pajamas and lying in my bed. 

We were getting ready for a trip to Hawaii in a few days so she could watch me pack and it was perfect.  I noticed her sucking on her fingers, something she does out of anxiety or pure exhaustion.  I checked in with her to see if she was okay or if there was something she wanted to talk about and she said no and  so I suggested she go to sleep early and without saying anything, she got out of my bed and walked into hers. 

Usually there is at least some push back on the sleep thing, but none at all. 

I got her tucked in and I could see tears in her eyes.  I asked what was wrong and she told me that her privates hurt.  Okay.  I asked if they hurt on the inside or the outside and she said the inside.  And at this point she was crying.  I asked if I could take a look and see anything.  I thought maybe there was a rash or something.  It was red, but I didn’t know what was going on, so I had some Destin and I put it on there and called it good.  She got back in bed and I asked if she was okay.  She wasn’t.

What did she need? She didn’t know. 

Alright… well, I thought… hopefully this will help soon.

My room is directly across from hers and I was packing suitcases so I was pretty nearby.  She got up 3 times in tears in the next 30 minutes from the pain in her privates.  At this point my mind started to go places that I wished it would never have to go.  My stomach was in knots.  My ability to focus was completely gone. 

I rocked her to sleep that night, as she cried from pain and I silently cried from the possibility of my mother’s intuition being all too real. 

I am not a great sleeper to begin with, but you add stress to the mix and forget about it.  I was up all night in a whole different land of “what-ifs.”  Sure you can tell me that worry doesn’t get me anywhere and believe me that my brain totally understands it.  Sadly, my heart just doesn’t follow suit.  I am sure that this whole experience has taken off several years of my life because of the worry and the damage it has done to me.  I’ve coped the best that I know how.  And I think it is easy for others's to say, “I would be this way.” Or “I would not worry until I knew for sure.” To those people I say…  I’d love to see it.  ;-)

The next morning I decided I was not going to bring it up unless she did.   Things in the morning seemed status quo.  It was Sunday.  We were lazy, as Sundays typically are around here and we didn’t do much of anything.  She was pretty quiet, but that also isn't much different from a Sunday after being with DP. 

Then my world changed.

“Mommy, my privates hurt really bad.”

“Ugh, still?”

This happened at about 3pm.  I swear that I remember as if it were yesterday. 

“Yes,” she said, almost sheepishly.

I asked the question, not really wanting to know the answer, “do you know why they hurt?”

“No,” she said.

Ton of bricks off my shoulders. 

“Okay,” I said, “let’s take another look and see if I see anything, okay?”

“Okay” she said.

As we walked downstairs, Ellie stopped. 

“Mom, I do know why they hurt.  They hurt because of my daddy.” 

Our New Regular

Sadly the decision to go or not go was not up to Ellie.

I called my new lawyer and told her what Ellie had done and DR explained that Ellie could not continue to do that.  Each time it happened, we were in contempt of court.  Now, the reality is that DP had been in contempt dozens of times to our few, but when we appeared in front of Judge R, we wanted to be as crystal clean as possible. 

I agreed to this to a point.  There would never be a time where I would physically make Ellie go.  It wasn’t in me. I couldn’t.  What I would do was try to explain how important it was to go and continue to try to make her as safe as possible.  In the meantime, DR was very insistent on us meeting with the new therapist and trying to get to the bottom of what was keeping Ellie from wanting to be with DP so badly. 

Ellie so enjoyed going to JC, her current therapist that a break from her to a new one was hard for me to imagine.  Some things do happen for a reason, I guess and at about the time that I was going to have to tell Ellie we needed to go see someone new, JC told us she was moving.  It was actually perfect timing. 

An appointment to get into the new therapist was easy to get.  I think the law firm had a little pull.  I was set up to talk to her in the morning to give her an overview and Ellie had a meeting with her the same day in the afternoon.  Ellie was a bit apprehensive.  In her mind, just another person to meet.  But, when she saw her, an instant bond was formed.  Dr. JR and Ellie hit it off.

She did a lot of play therapy with Ellie as well.  More drawing than before.  Her quick assessment was that Ellie had something to share, but she needed to be comfortable to share it.  It would take awhile.  My fear was we didn’t have awhile.  She also believed that she didn’t share the things with me because she was protecting me. 

*****

Guilt was a huge problem for me from the get go.  I felt horrible guilty that my little girl had to go through these things with this man who I had at one point picked.  I knew that something was wrong and I couldn’t fix it.  The point that the Doctor said she is protecting me, my guilt grew ten-fold.

With visitation things continued to get worse.  The times that DP did show up were few and far between.  The preparation for us to go were tough.  Me talking Ellie “into it” was painful.  I had to walk a fine balance of not being negative toward him and also try to be mindful of her fear and mine, without letting mine show.  It was a horrible situation. 

The outcomes were horrible regardless of what happened.  If he didn’t show, it meant he didn’t care, in Ellie’s eyes and I had no way to describe it, even as an adult with mediocre intelligence. 

If he did show, there was the fear of what was going to happen.  I’d feel a tug on my leg, by Ellie’s small hands, I’d see the tears in her eyes and she tried not to let them be visible to him.  And occasionally there would be the verbal altercation by her saying that she wasn’t going to go.  Most of the time, I would end up talking her into it.  I often wondered what her “punishment” would be for talking out. 

The times were always cut short.  I imagined he didn’t want to “put up” with her.  She had taken to spelling out “m-o-m-m-m-y” every time she referred to me.  And, she was stubborn. She didn’t want to go to his work. She asked to come home.  She pestered him. 

He texted early for me to come and get her.  I would happily oblige.

Visitations became very irregular.  Down to maybe once per month.  And while it was nice, I was always waiting for a shoe to drop.

Ellie continued to see her therapist, Dr JR.  I continued to get random texts in the night.  We lived in a constant fear of him.  When would we see him in the area? When would we see someone he knew? When would he just show up at our house? When would he show up for a visitation and not come back with her? When would the reality of what was happening come out of Ellie’s mouth and a new chapter begin?

Ellie continued to sink into herself a bit more.  Whatever she was holding onto was eating at her. She was nervous to go to public places.  She didn’t want to accidently run into him.  We stayed away from most places where there were many people.  I did my grocery shopping when she was in school.  Just because she wasn’t seeing him, didn’t make our lives much better. 

******

June 26, 2010

DP texted and asked if he could meet late.  It was a Saturday.  It was HIS Saturday and so I had to say yes.  He also said he couldn’t keep her long.  I told Ellie this would be a quick one, and she was willing to go. 

He kept her until 2.  It was 5 hours total.  

Cursing

As the visits went on and Ellie got older, she was able to tell me more.  I could see Ellie changing.  I am a strong believer in Mother’s Intuition.  I knew something was wrong.  She would fight harder and harder each time we would have to go to visitation.  She didn’t cry as much, but the build-up was such that we started preparing nearly a day early. 

Now this could be hard because DP could easily not show or cancel.  Then Ellie had to question “why doesn’t my dad love me?” “why does he keep doing this?”… But the preparation, as far as just talking about what was going to happen, how short it was going to be, that I would be there when it was over, etc, became part of our weekly lives as well.  When she did go, my talkative Ellie would clam up when she got home.  The question of “what did you do?” was always answered by “nothing.”  I would try to push it a little, “You had to do something.” “I don’t want to talk about it.” … and that would be that. 

DP started to change too.  The once tolerable hand off of Ellie where he would come into Fred Meyers, Ellie would look at me with crocodile tears and ask, “do I really have to go?” And I would say hi to him -  got worse.  He didn’t even walk up to us anymore.  It was literally as if he wanted us to see him walk in the door of the Fred Meyers, and then Ellie to leave me and walk to him.  I refused to play along with this game.  This was teaching Ellie nothing good in the manners department and she was already so reluctant to go, there was no way I would push her to him.  Each time he tried it, I motioned him over.  I would at least be civil with a hello and Ellie would get one last hug in. 

 He also started to push the time.  Now every single time he got her, he was 15 minutes late.  I refused to go late.  I hope at some point this resonates with Ellie, though right now, I don’t know how.  She didn’t understand if we knew he would be late, why we had to be on time.  I was trying to teach her that promptness is good and hope it makes sense sometime.

We used to play a game while waiting for him.  We could see a mirror from the place that we sat and we would try to figure out if it was going to be him or not by looking at the mirror and watching the next person come in.  It seemed to pass the time a little and was just our thing to do. 

As far as returning her, he went well beyond the 15 minutes.  20, 25 minutes was not unreasonable.  I didn’t get texts or phone calls saying he was running late or that he would be there soon or anything.  My fear every night was that he wasn’t coming back with her.  I would sit on the Fred Meyer bench and anxiously await a bobbing little head coming toward me.  It is amazing how slowly 25 minutes can go by.

I found out later, from Ellie, that he did this on purpose.  He wanted to show me who was boss and that he didn’t have to play by the rules.  It makes total sense.  Being late gets to me.  But, to have your child say to you, “Mommy, my daddy says he doesn’t have to be there at 5, because he knows it makes you angry and he doesn’t have to play by the rules.” And not talk bad about him, is a truly tough thing to do. 

The other thing that changed drastically was where the drop-offs happened.  The Fred Meyers that we went to had 2 double-doors that automatically opened.  In the middle of those was a fully-enclosed area where carts were kept as well as a few video games and such.  Originally, DP would walk Ellie into the bench where I would be sitting, beyond the second double doors.  He stopped doing that.  His new thing was to walk her through the first set of double doors, whisper something in her ear and let her walk the rest of the way by herself.  This was every single time.  When I asked what he had whispered, Ellie told me that she couldn’t tell me. 

The feeling in my gut was so strong that something was wrong I wanted to explode.  As much as I tried to explain it to people, and I heard the “yes, that is horrible” it just didn’t settle me. 

Asking my lawyer what we could do did little good.  He had not paid child support, but that would get us nowhere.  We could go back to court and probably get him for contempt for not paying ½ of her medical needs and not paying attention to the times. But, we couldn’t bring any or my feelings in, couldn’t bring in anything that Ellie had said, because that was hearsay.  We were really at in a bad situation. 

It was around this time that Ellie turned 5 and she was diagnosed with precocious puberty.  I felt it my duty to call DP and let him know about this.  We literally had not spoken since that night at Izzy’s.  He answered my call and I tried to explain in a very calm matter what was happening.  He became erratic and insisted that he be at every appointment that I had lined up at Doernbecher’s for the next week.  Well, I remarked, that would not be wise, seeing as the two of us don’t get along and Ellie doesn’t enjoy her time with you, I only saw that as being MORE stressful than what was already happening.  I told him I would keep him informed of everything and practically begged him to be nicer to me when were at Fred Meyer.  I also asked for a check of his watch.  I explained he was teaching Ellie poor habits.  That got a laugh.  I didn’t expect much.

At this point the texts started.  DP started texting me at odd hours of the night with blank texts or texts that simply didn’t make sense.  The texts would be 5-10 minutes apart and have things like “8 Her 90 m” on it.  And then 10 minutes later “I can’t” and then 10 minutes later a blank text.  One could say there is the mistaken, misdialed text, but I put this nowhere on the same page.  These came at midnight or after.  And several nights a week. 

Dealing with this, Ellie just getting sick and me trying to figure out how to get him either out of her life or a better father, my head was clouded.  And, I couldn’t get away from the feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

******

I picked Ellie up on a Sunday, 5:20, late as usual and she was as quiet as a mouse.  I asked her what they had done for the weekend and her response was “nothing.”  “Come on, Ellie, you had to do something.” I pushed.  “I don’t want to talk about it.” Came the response. 

It was very quiet in the backseat as we drove home.  I was trying to figure out how to handle it because something obviously had happened.  When we got home, Ellie looked at me and told me she was tired and was going to get ready for bed.  Anyone who knows my daughter, knows that this is the oddest behavior for her.  Sure, she is really good about going to bed when asked, but she certainly will never voluntarily go to bed.  I stopped her right there.

I sat her down on the couch, it was time for a heart to heart. 

“Ellie, remember you can tell me anything.” I started off.

“No, mommy, I can’t. I am just going to go to bed. Okay?”

I didn’t want to make things worse than they obviously were for her, so I offered to help her get ready – asked if she wanted a bath or to have dinner and helped her along the way.  But there was something eating at her. 

Lying down with her, I felt her tiny body start to cry. 

“Ellie, what’s wrong?” I asked. 

“Why is Mommy a bad word?” She asked.

“What?”

“Daddy says that Mommy is a bad word and I can’t use it.  Every time I do, I get in trouble.”

I asked for a deeper explanation trying to keep my head on straight once again.  For “his weekend with Ellie” DP had picked her up and taken her to his friends house.  Ellie didn’t know these people and was left there while DP went to work (odd that he was working and I was seeing no money from that… but I digress and we will get back to that at some point).  When he finally came back that night, Ellie said she wanted to go home, could he text “Mommy” and have me come get her?

At that point, DP declared a new rule.  Mommy was now a bad word and if it came out of Ellie’s mouth again, she would be in trouble.  Anytime around him, it was not to be used.  She asked for clarification but couldn’t figure out how to do it without using “mommy” and got in trouble time after time after time that night.  She said she cried the whole night through.  The next morning she was taken back to these people’s house and left there again.  When it was time to drop her off, DP came and got her and brought her to Fred Meyer. 

That was it.  I was done.  Whether we had enough to go on or not, I wanted to go back to court.  In my mind, this was emotional abuse.  Not being able to talk about the person you are with 98% of the time is ridiculous.  And the fact that she was not willing to tell me what “trouble” meant scared me even more. 

I called my lawyer. 

Arcades and Movies and Curfews ... Oh My

Each visit was the same.  DP would show up just as we would be leaving as the clock struck 9:15 and there was a physical battle with trying to get Ellie to go with him.  The chaos would be enough for the entire Fred Meyer store to stop what it was doing and look at us.  I’d often suggest going outside to the parking lot so as not to become the circus act of the morning. 

DP would generally call and want to “deliver” her earlier than his time was allotted, but would never be there when he said he would be.  If he said, let’s meet at 8pm Saturday night, he would be there at 8:15.  It was a game to him.  There is no question in my mind. 

Each visit was the same in activity as well.  They would do one of three things.  Chuck E Cheese, Wunderland, or Safari Sam’s.   Now, I get that these three places are kid-friendly and upon occasion can be argued to be fun and exciting.  I even took Ellie to Safari Sam’s last week.  So, in principal, I have no huge qualms about a few of those places.  The issue I have and will always have is that he had the potential to have her 69 hours a month.  And those times were canceled.  Those times were late. Those times were spent playing video games.  Separately, not together.  They were not spent in ways that I would think you would want to really get to know your child. 

It astonished me when I got her back and I would say, what did you talk about? And the answer would be: nothing. 

The music was up too loud when they were driving to have a conversation and then when they went to one of these places, these “fun-lands” … he went one way and she went the other.  She had fun at the venues.  What kid wouldn’t? But, was that the purpose of the visits?

Often she would come home with wet pants.  This is after she was potty trained.  She never could find him to take her to the bathroom and so she would just wet herself.  Then, embarrassed to tell him, she would spend the day or evening in her soaked pants.  And, he never noticed. 

The exchange between the two of us was horrible.  I tried to be civil and have at least a pleasant “hello”.  But, he couldn’t even “stoop” to that.  He fought through the struggle to get Ellie and left. 

These horrifying moments were torturous to take.  I was sending her with this man who was not watching her, not being careful with her, not listening to her and she didn’t want to go.  Could I blame her? Absolutely not.  Yet, the law dictated that this was good for her. 

There was a day that was around the year point after he had started having her.  And he asked me to go to dinner with the two of them on Wednesday night.  I could literally count on my two hands the number of words we had exchanged up until that point so I was blown away by the request.  I had no desire to go.  I had no desire to be in the same vicinity with him.  I was so sick to my stomach by what he said that I immediately said no and turned around.  Then Ellie pulled on me and begged, Please. 

How could I say no to that?

We walked from the Fred Meyer parking lot to Izzy’s.  My stomach turning over and over again thinking what is this about? Is he moving? Is he dying? Does he need to tell me he can’t do this visitation thing anymore? Is he going to ask for more time? Less?

When we sat down, I asked immediately, “what’s up?” and he said, “wow, you cut to the chase.”

I remember saying, “you asked me here for a reason and I am curious what it is.”

He said, “I have some questions about how to take care of Ellie.”

Wow… I was shocked.  Was he coming to actually try to be a better parent?

“Okay… specifically… what do you mean?”

“For example, what do you do with her?”

“I play with her, take her to the park, talk to her, take walks.”

“How many movies can she watch a day?”

“One at the most,” I said

“How many are you letting her watch?” I asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he said.

“What about bedtime?” he asked.

“When do you put her to bed?” I replied

“Well, the last time I had her overnight we left the arcade in North Portland at 10:30 so we didn’t get home until 11.”

“She is 4 ½ ” I blurted out.  “What is a 4 ½ year old doing at an arcade in the first place and in the 2^nd place why is she staying out that late?”

“She likes it” he said.

“Of course she does.” I retorted.

By this time my heart was in my throat and I couldn’t see straight.  What was happening when he had her? It was much worse than I had thought.  I was thinking of the dungy dirty arcades and my 4 ½ year old being there at 10:30 at night.  And then the next morning watching movies until it was time for me to pick her up. 

I calmly took a breath and said, “look… you don’t have her that long.  Why don’t you skip the arcades and the Chuck E Cheeses and actually spend time with her? Do you know her favorite color? What she likes to do? Do you know that she wets her pants almost every time she is with you because she can’t find you and then she is afraid to tell you? And, WE, you and I, need to be civil.  Whether you realize it or not, she is watching us. When you come to get her, can you at least acknowledge me? And, would it hurt you to be on time? It is teaching her to be late.  And, I don’t think that is good.”

He thought about it all for a moment and then said, “you have good points.”

Dinner was over and I was done.  He still had time to visit with her, but said I could take her home.  That was fine with me.  I wanted to go scrub her free of the arcade she had been to a week before. 

The next time we met, I had high hopes for an on-time departure and a “hello” from her dad.  Neither came true.  And, they spent the day at Chuck E Cheese.

He texted me around 3pm to see if I could pick her up early.  

Visits with a Stranger

I had only met JH once before.  It was in a grocery store and it was very brief.  DP and I had been there together and by chance we had run into her.  It was very uncomfortable because she wasn’t someone he talked about often and when he did, she was not what I had pictured in my mind. 

I knew very little about her other than she and DP had dated several years, after that she had met her current husband and now apparently they lived close to Ellie and me. 

The timing of the “supervised visitations” was to be set up between us (JH and me).  It would be 2 hours on Saturday morning and 2 hours on Wednesday evening.  I was beside myself with fear.  I had, of course, left Ellie with the daycare provider and my family.  But this was different.  And though 4 hours a week doesn’t sound like a lot of time, 360 minutes of my baby being with people she doesn’t have a clue who they are, someone with an acknowledged drug and alcohol issue who had abandoned the very same person just months before was excruciatingly terrifying. 

The fact that I, in all honesty, had no idea what was happening in that house drove me batty.  The fact that I honestly didn’t even know if DP was there or not kept me up at nights.  The fact that my daughter hated going every single time and at the young age of just under 1 would make gag herself until she threw up made me highly aware that a rocky road was in front of us and I had better be ready to fight for the both of us. 

I remember the first time of dropping her off at JH’s house so vividly.  Packing her up, so little, no idea what was going on.  Singing on the short drive over, trying to keep from crying.  As we pulled up, JH would come down and I would hand Ellie to her.  She would then disappear with Ellie.  Ellie was not happy about it.  Screaming, crying, reaching for me.  I was trying to reassure her that it would be okay and then I couldn’t hold the tears in any longer.  At that point, JH reached out to put her hand on my shoulder and I thought, “how could you?”

My question to her, her mom, her husband has been and will always be, how can they continue to support this man? It flat out boggles my mind.  I will never understand it and I hope to one day get the chance to ask. 

I flinched as she touched me.  “No.” I remember saying.

I handed Ellie to her and said, you are just going to have to take her.  Call me if she doesn’t calm down. 

I could hear her screaming as they walked up the steps.  In my rear view mirror, I saw Ellie looking for me, I saw them enter the apartment and still heard the screams and I couldn’t drive.  I sat in the parking lot for a good 20 minutes as I composed myself and then I drove away. 

Those first few visits that followed were some of the longest “two-hour” chunks of time in my life.  Ellie never went without a fight.  Few words were spoken between JH and me.  He had 4 visits and decided to go to Florida to visit his family.  Family he hadn’t seen in decades.  He would be flying stand-by and had no idea what date he would return; so, I felt lucky to have more time with Ellie.  I also felt that it was a stupid decision as she would never get used to this man, who was her dad. 

He didn’t get back until after the New Year.  We had to start from scratch with the visits and Ellie not feeling comfortable.  Ellie’s birthday is January 11.  I remember there was a visit around that day and the outside of the apartment had balloons on it.  I thought it was a kind gesture.  But, something in me knew something was off.  I pulled to the side of the complex to just take a look.  It wasn’t just JH, DP and Ellie.  There were at least a dozen people who entered the apartment that Saturday morning.  I was filled with rage.  My thing was this.  Here was a man who wanted to get to know his daughter better.  He had been given 4 hours a week to do that.  As the state and the Judge said, those hours were for him.  He should, in my belief and the state’s be using them to get to know her.  To play with her.  To dote on her.  Not to host a party. 

I came back to get Ellie at the regular time that day.  The decorations on the door were down.  I asked JH what they had done that day.  “Nothing special” was her response.  As my head fumed and my heart raced, I drove off, now knowing what I had already suspected, even the person who was doing the supervised visits couldn’t be trusted.

I contacted my new lawyer the following day and let him know the progress of things.  His suggestion was to start keeping a diary of what I saw, how often thing got changed and what was happening at the visits.  We would put in a motion to go back to court and get child support and also try to explain exactly what should be happening at the visits as well as what was happening. 

Through emails, Saturday visits became Sunday visits because JH had a dentist appointment or a meeting.  Wednesday nights became Thursday nights because she had to work late.  I was juggling several balls and could keep nothing consistent. 

I became somewhat of a Private Detective, in my own right. I’d drive away after dropping Ellie off and then park on a side street and try to see what was happening.  It was fine, there wasn’t much I would be accomplishing during the 2 hours away anyway.  Driving to my house, thinking about Ellie, pacing, driving back to get her.  At least now I was conserving fuel. 

JH’s mom came nearly every time.  She’d leave before I came back to pick Ellie up.  I don’t know what her deal is/was with Ellie nor do I have yet to understand the whole relationship with her and DP.

At one point I got so frustrated with it all that I faced JH. 

“JH, I have it on camera.” I told her. 

“What?” she asked?

“The comings and goings of people.” I said. “How many times does DP leave early?”

“Everyday” she said.  Looking me straight in the eyes. 

As I let that statement sink in, because it was actually brand new news to me, I didn’t have anything on camera, I was so bloody irate.  Who was Ellie having visitations with? And for what? JH, her husband and her mom? I grabbed Ellie out of her hands, drove a few feet away, so she could not see me and had a full out melt down.  Why was this happening?

Court date was scheduled for the following week to try to get child support and hopefully put and end to this insanity.

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. 

Why Did I Pick Forrest Gump?

My guess is that those who know me would describe me as fairly intelligent.  Perhaps even a little above average.  I have a good job with the same company for the last 14 plus years, I can maintain well (I mean good … gotcha) conversations with people and sound like, may even know what I am talking about.  I read and can honestly say I am not stupid.  Which bodes the question.

How did I end up with this guy?

This man who, among other things has been called Forest Gump-like (that one has to be my favorite).

It’s a great question and one I have been asked more than a dozen times.

I’d like to set the record straight.  DP wasn’t always like this.  Now, I will say this – I don’t think we were meant for each other.  I really don’t.  We had a great time together.  He was fun to be around and in the time that we spent together we were great friends and laughed hard.   It was nice to have someone around and he was that person.  He was fun and spontaneous and I guess that is what I wanted at that point in my life.   

Hands down, he was one of the best chefs in Portland. Throw in charisma and I would say that he would make the top 3 in Portland.  He was always asked to be on the stage at The Bite in Portland or at Bones and Brew.  He was well known in the circle of chefs and did his job well. 

We dated for 4 years.  So, I knew him well (or so I was led to believe) and he wasn’t the man I know today.  Far from it.  You could pretty much set your clock by my period, so, when it didn’t come, I knew something was off.  Pregnant.   I remember the night that I told him.  We were watching TV later in the evening and one of his friends, a cop who often visited his restaurant had committed suicide.  DP was beside himself.  He left 

my side and went out drinking.  This would soon become the norm. 

My pregnancy was not an easy one.  I was sick every day and not just in the mornings.  Day, night, mid-night, mid-mornings, noon… If there was a time, I was nauseous.  I found foods that tasted just as good going down as they did coming back up (oh, there is a science involved!).  I worked downtown at the time and often took conference calls on the floor of my office, waste bucket next to me.  My colleagues were thrilled with the joy of my pregnancy.  I remained sick right through my 2^nd   trimester.

Most days DP was nowhere to be found.  He still had an apartment and I was plugging away on my own at my house.   We’d talk occasionally.  He was disconnected from the baby and me.  I was sad, embarrassed, worried.  Growing up in a home where my parents are still together, I had never thought of being a single mom, and I wanted this to magically work somehow.  In my mind, at the time, there was no other way.  We would find a way to get along and would be a family.  When I think about this, I can’t believe how strongly I believed this.  What’s odd is that I was/am a strong woman.  I know I can get through things.  I don’t know if my desire to make things work came from the hormones that were flowing through my body, the small, picturesque town I grew up in, or my childhood dreams being smashed into pieces, but I really thought it would all come together just fine. 

Not that I didn’t have a great support system, but this was pre-facebook, a time when the people you talk to are harder to reach out to than turning on a computer.  My friends were all happily married, most with kids.  Of course that is how it would turn out.  Me, DP and the baby that was growing inside me. 

The day before my birthday, I was 16 weeks. I had to fly to Chicago for a meeting.  I was surprised that on my actual birthday I didn’t hear from DP at all.  Late night Chicago time, finally a call came in from the number at his restaurant.  It was his best friend.  He asked if I had heard from DP. 

“No,” I answered, and knew quickly that something wasn’t right.

“He was let go this morning,” his friend said, “and he left in a very bad way.” 

I realize that losing a job is traumatic.  I can’t imagine it. I have been blessed to make it through many cutbacks at work.  I count my lucky stars each time I make it.  I think that to women and men the aftermath of losing a job might be different even (I’m guessing here).  I suspect men , as a whole, might take it a little harder.  And then to Chefs, they take it even harder.  Chefs don’t cook; they ARE chefs.  DP was his job.  My gut ached when I heard he lost his job.  I asked why. 

“Sexual Harassment” said the voice on the phone.

We talked a bit longer and I asked him to check DP’s apartment again and then to check my house.  The conference was set for 2 more days in Chicago, but I knew I had to go home.  I knew something wasn’t right and my boss agreed.  He got me on the red-eye home and away I flew. 

When I landed, I drove by his apartment, no car.  I drove home and his car was in my garage.  It was the middle of the night and I walked in.  The smell of alcohol engulfed me.   Upstairs every bit of counter space was filled by an empty bottle of some kind.  I didn’t know how one person, especially his size could have consumed all of that and still be alive.  I walked into the bedroom and there he was sprawled out and still breathing. 

I figured I’d let him sleep it off and we would talk in the morning. 

I was exhausted.  I walked way upstairs and knew there was a couch calling my name.  I’d sleep the night away there.  Without turning the light on I walked in the room.  Something was on the ground and felt funny under my feet.  It wasn’t soft or giving like carpet usually is.  I turned on the light to find my bonus room’s floor covered with bullets.  No spaces.  Covered.  I could see no gun, but honestly, didn’t search.  I was too taken aback by what I saw.  I had to sit down.  There I was, 4 months pregnant, bullets surrounding me and a drunken man below me who was just let go for sexual harassment. 

I had no idea what the next day would bring, I only knew it would be long and scary.  It was too much for me; too much for one person to handle.  I had to get back up as soon as it was a reasonable hour.  And that would be soon.  For now, I needed to shut my eyes, my body was tired, I needed rest.