Jennie’s* Domestic Violence Story

April 27, 2014

My story starts in 2009. It ends 2012. Started as a simple conversation. It ended in sorrow and shadows. He and I met in an AA meeting. We both shared a passion to drink and go crazy. I was able to get help. He didn’t. He suffered from darkness that he took out on me eventually.

What started as a fun and reckless relationship, then he got deployed to Afghanistan. We did our own thing for six months and then restarted our relationship right before he came home. Who I thought he was through e-mails and social media was a cover for who he truly was. When he came home, we were inseparable. However, he suffered from extreme PTSD and substance abuse. When he saw shadows he took them out on drugs and alcohol, then me. He cheated on me and convinced I was cheating on him, which I was too afraid to do so. He called co-workers to check if I was cheating on him. He went through my underwear when I got home to see if I had cheated on him. He called all the time while I was at work to check up on me. He took away my car keys to prevent me from driving off and doing my own thing.

I got pregnant after five months of him coming home, and like any domestic violence case, he did everything he could to end the pregnancy. I ended up spending two days crying on the floor in our bathroom bleeding out our unborn children. He was an Emergency Room EMT who knew what he was doing by refusing medical attention when I was miscarrying. He didn’t want a baby and that is why he sexually assaulted me days prior to get me to miscarry.

Afterwards, he went in a bizarre state to where he would threaten me with guns to my head and pin me down to the ground and beat me. He started abusing street prescription drugs and showing up odd hours at night and talking about his time at war. When he suffered from his ghosts, he would project on me. I was an easy target.

One day, cops showed up at our house for a traffic violation and he made threats to me in front of cops, but being afraid of him I didn’t say anything to the cops. He was only held overnight. He called me 20 times to instruct me not to leave him. I told him I packed up my stuff and left him.

A month later, I came back to him and things got worse. Yelling, screaming, threats, sleepiness nights, quitting jobs due to distress, and being shot in the leg, him accusing me of theft and calling the cops on me, I was basically sleeping with one eye open and in constant fear. One night, I prayed to god for the strength to leave, I had a plan to leave for good. Let’s just say he caught me in the action of leaving. He threw my items done the toilet to prevent me from leaving. He attempted to choke me to death. I was able to call the cops in the middle of the violence, yet he caught up to me while I was running away to safety. By the way, my left leg was still swollen, black and bruised, and dislocated from the gunshot wound which he blamed me for. He finally caught up to me, pinned me down and threatened my life. However, he didn’t realize I was on the phone with 911 and it was recorded to later use in court. Six cops showed up and arrested him. Initially, he ran from the cops and blamed me and the war on his violence against me. Let’s just say I was given 24 hours to move to a safe place and hope for the best he won’t find me.

The 24 hours wasn’t long enough, he was released from jail before the time ( he was a trust fund baby ) I could get my items out of the house. He tracked me down and somehow convinced the cops I was at fault. I was immediately removed from our apartment we shared and escorted to another location. He found out my location within a week and stalked me. I changed my number. He figured it out. He broke into my facebook account, my email, and so forth. I was not safe and cops couldn’t protect me. I was so scared of him I wouldn’t go outside. I wouldn’t leave the house. I wouldn’t talk to people. I hid under the covers of my sheets. I had nightmares. I didn’t sleep. I had several protective orders. The military protected him which was an obvious disservice to me. I saw him in shadows. Once I was able to leave the house, I didn’t drive very far… I thought he was following me everywhere I went. I thought he was in the back seat of my car at night and waiting for me on my porch. I had panic attacks within several miles of driving. Finally after months of finally comfortable of leaving the house I moved to the other side of time, thinking the attorneys had enough on him to protect me. He was constantly getting arrested for several crimes. I was wrong, he moved down the road. He followed me to locations. He was arrested at an auto dealership I was at when I was changing the locks of my car to prevent him getting inside of my car. Also, I had them check for a GPS device, which the attorneys find in my car previously. Proof I was not safe. I felt trapped and panic attacks increased. I quit school. I quit my job. I moved.

During court proceedings it looked like it was going my way, then an obstacle after obstacle occurred. Somehow he convinced the court he was insane and was able to drag out the 7 cases I had against for over a year. Finally, I moved to another city hoping to escape from the depression and disappointment. It didn’t work. I was afraid to go outside, again. He broke into my accounts again. I got a job that I thought would protect me-it did for awhile until he started harassing me again.

Then, a turning point in the case happened. I was finally winning. But, shortly after I thought there was a light in the end of tunnel, I was hit by the unexpected. He committed suicide via heroine and alcohol overdose. He knew what he was doing with that combination. The case was closed due to his death. That did not solve the problem. I am still haunted by his shadows and his voices in my head. Today, I am a wife to an incredible man and a mother to a wonderful child. The voices and nightmares are still there. The two scars from the gunshot wound are still very visible to remind me of my strength and story. I am stronger person. I am a story to tell. I am a survivor. I will never be the same.

April 2014