My Mother's Voice

I'll never forget my mother's last words to me right before she walked away and into the bathroom where she pulled the trigger on the .45 I had often seen my stepfather put to her head. She said, "How could you?" and walked away. The only other time I can recall my mother speaking directly to me was when she finally decided to leave my stepfather and we drove from CA to CO where my grandmother lived. We were on the highway listening to the radio when the song, "Yummy, yummy, yummy, I got love in my tummy and I feel like loving you," played and my mother sang it to me. It's the only time I remember my mother telling me that she loved me. By the time we arrived in Colorado my stepfather had already called my grandmother and threatened to kill every one of my family members if my mother didn't come back to him immediately.

According to statistics and Google, today the average times it takes a victim to leave before staying away for good is 7. I don't know what the numbers were in 1979 or if there were even any statistics at all. My mother only tried leaving once before her decision to end her own life. I believe it was her final, "F*** you" to Don, to me, and to the world, none of whom ever protected her. Exiting the relationship is the most unsafe time for a victim. As the abuser senses that they're losing power, they will often act in dangerous ways to regain control over their victim.

Every abuse victim has their own reasons for not leaving, in most cases the fear and reality that the abuser will follow through with the threats they have used to keep them trapped: the abuser will hurt or kill them, hurt or kill their family, hurt or kill the kids, or will win custody of the children.

One of my most traumatic memories is the day that will burned into my brain forever, the day Don he killed our female Doberman. With a verbal warning to my mother of what would happen if she ever left Don, he took us outside in the backyard where we had our two Doberman's, Rocky and Rusty, and he shot and killed Rusty. Don looked at us with his gun in hand and said, "If you ever leave me, this will be you", and he turned and shot Rusty. I can't even begin to explain the horror of witnessing that, or what that does to a small girl, how witnessing that one violent act of killing something that is loved, affects the rest of one's life.

I can remember one other time when Don murdered an animal, it was during a camping trip when I was about 5. I had found a turtle that my mother said I could take home with us. We had lots of different animals at that time, including a hawk on our huge, enclosed porch, and a bunch of hermit crabs in a tank inside our house. This turtle would be a perfect addition to our already exotic animal collection, or so I thought. When I approached Don with my turtle, excited to tell him that my mom said I could take the turtle home with us, I didn't expect what he did next. I remember as soon as I told Don of my plan with the turtle he said, "Do you like this turtle?", I said "Yes." As soon as I confirmed that I liked the turtle, Don raised his booted foot and stomped hard on that turtle, crushing and killing it. I'll NEVER FORGET the sheer horror I felt as his boot lifted up off the crushed turtle shell, exposing all of the guts and blood that was inside of that poor turtle, murdered for absolutely no reason. I recall thinking, "Oh God, I'm next!" My fear of Don stays with me to this day even though he died decades ago. The extreme violence, murder and death I witnessed as a small girl will forever be in my memories, and even though I don't purposely recall those memories, even today, in certain situations the flashes/memories, and more importantly, the feelings of extreme fear and hopelessness flood my entire being.

I believe that my mother went back to Don in fear that he would keep his promise to hurt or kill the rest of our family, leaving the safety and love of my grandmother's home to return to a violent, murderous, maniac. I remember being with Don a lot in those days, I don't know where my mother was, or why I was with him so much of the time, but nevertheless that is how it was. Keep in mind that I was scared to death of Don, literally! I remember quite well waking up in the morning at the young ages of 5-7 thinking, "Today is the day. Yup! Today is the day I will die, because Don will kill me." I had already decided I would die at his hands. What a horrible way for any child to wake up every day. I still have scars on my knees from the time Don threw me across the room for no reason while arguing with my mother, I landed knees first on a glass table, shattering the table and causing my knees to go through it, cutting through my flesh. All I remember is him yelling at me, "And you too!", and he grabbed and threw me. There was a small cubby hole, just large enough for me to crawl in and hide, inside my closet. I don't know if my mother and Don ever knew of my hiding spot, but that's where I would go when the fighting and fear got too intense.

Don didn't just hurt and kill people and animals that he knew, I remember one time in particular I remember when Don's only son was visiting at our house, he was probably in his mid 20's at the time. He and his girlfriend had been arguing and she walked out of our house sporting her new rabbit fur coat that was popular in the 70's. It wasn't long before she came back crying hysterically with her coat hanging off her arm, screaming that a man had just attacked her in the alley next to our house. I remember everyone getting in our car and driving around looking to find the man who allegedly assaulted her. At one point she saw a man standing in front of the Doggie Diner that she thought was the same one who tried to grab her coat in the alley. "That's him! That's him!" she yelled as she pointed to the man. Don immediately pulled over and without saying one word he tapped on the man's shoulder and as the man started to turn around Don dropped him, hard. He served that man with a right that he never saw coming, and before anyone knew it he was on the ground and hadn't gotten up by the time we drove off. A few minutes later the girlfriend admitted that she made a mistake and confessed that it was probably the wrong man.

Earlier in the day on July 19, 1979, the day that my mother finally had enough and decided to end it all, Don had confronted me about my mother's daily activities since we had returned from Colorado. He asked me if my mother had any 'boyfriends'. At that age I was expected to give him an answer that satisfied him without implicating my mother of anything. I knew that if I lied and he found out, the possible repercussions were many and ultimately many for me, so I told the truth. If I have one regret in my life, it's telling Don that my mom didn't have a boyfriend, only friends that were boys. That was all it took for him to take it out on my mom. I'll never know what he told her, the words he used, or what he told her I said, but that's all it took. On July 19, 1979 as I played on our enclosed porch with a baby chick before it was fed to our hawk, my mother came up to me, looked me in my eyes, and with a quivering voice said, "How could you?" Those were her last words to me before she walked a few yards away, got Don's gun, went into the bathroom, locked the door, and shot herself in her right temple. When I heard the shot I assumed it was just some more firecrackers that people in our neighborhood had been setting off since June. Don knew better, he knew what it was. Less than a minute after hearing the shot I saw Don run passed me and into the house, so I followed him. At that time, it didn't occur to me that something was wrong, I followed Don because that's what kids do. When we got to the bathroom door and Don tried the doorknob, it was locked so he kicked it in. As soon as the door flung back and opened Don went in and again, I followed. If Don ever did one thing right and humanely in his violent, evil and destructive life, it was pushing me back the moment before I saw my mother sitting in the bathtub bleeding out from her head from a self-inflicted, gunshot wound. Thank God I didn't see any of that! Moments later Don called 911, and I still remember his words, "Suicide, 4223 42nd. Avenue. He hung up, grabbed me and his car keys and out the door we went, never to return to that house or my mother. Don drove us to some people's house, dropped he off and I never seen him again. I don't remember much after he kidnapped me, not even what I did for those few days after my mom died. I vaguely remember those people or their house, or even who they were, or how they fit into the picture. From what my grandmother told me before she died in 2017, and according to a few of my mother's siblings, Don used me to escape any criminal charges and/or prosecution related to my mother's suicide. He got away with all of it, everything. He walked away a free man despite the fact that he was a convicted felon and shouldn't have been in possession of any firearms in the first place. My mother sacrificed the rest of her life by her own hand so he wouldn't have the pleasure of doing it himself. It was her final, "F*** you!" to the world.

I made some promises to myself as a little girl after my mother died, one of those and the most important I feel is that for me, suicide would never be an option. No matter how hard life gets, no matter how much it hurts, no matter what, taking my own life is never an option! So in 2020 when I found myself the victim of a group of male bullies, one of which is an alleged member of law enforcement in Colorado Springs, and all of whom had threatened an intimidated me over the same thing, for the first time ever in 50 years, I seriously considered taking my life to end it all to escape the threats of violence that to this day I live in fear of.

In February 2020, while I was barely recovering from a terrible accident that landed me in the hospital for a 10 day hospital and rehab stay, and having emergency surgery with the implementation of hardware in my right foot and unable to walk for months. On the 3rd in the day in the hospital, I got a call that my home appeared to have been possibly broke into and/or vandalized because my door was wide open when a neighbor walked by and noticed it. Not able to walk or leave the hospital without causing more harm and damage to my injury, I couldn't do much about it. Ultimately, I was discharged from the rehab hospital non-weight bearing and unable to walk without assistance for weeks, and homeless. My tiny trailer which I called 'home' for the past year and half had been vandalized to the point that it was no longer safe to occupy. I found myself in a one of the most undesirable predicaments of my life - losing my home and everything of monetary value including my sources of heat and even my CPAP machine. I had reported the burglary which was listed as 2nd degree burglary instead of 1st degree which is the burglary of a residence by the deputy that came to the hospital to take my report. Shortly after discharging from the hospital, I provided the same deputy a list of stolen items from my home and storage, just to be told that she and her supervisor, (both employees of EPCSO) had already "decided not to pursue my case." I wasn't given any reasons why and when I told the deputy that I intended on applying for Victim's Services, she informed me that I wasn't eligible for Victim's Services or Compensation for the same reason, that they weren't pursuing my case.

I was beyond devasted, as everything of value was lost. I had worked so hard, so hard I had permanent blisters on my hands and feet from remodeling the trashed out trailer I bought for over a year and a half. All gone, in the blink of an eye and with a decision by law enforcement that didn't believe I had any value or worth, along with all of my belongings. With the loss of so much at once, and with no other resources or assistance from the community where I have lived in 43 of my 50 years of life, I began to slowly start over. As soon as I was able to walk in a boot, I was off and rebuilding my life. I decided that my tiny trailer was no longer 'safe' for me to live in, as was the opinion of Patient advocate and medical providers at the hospitals, not to mention the time and money it would take to once again make it habitable. I have been disabled and receiving SSI/SSDI since 2008 with an income of less than $800 a month until 2022, at which time it was raised to $812. I can't even qualify to rent an apartment at market rent which is the almost the same as my monthly income. In case you are not aware, almost every place requires tenants to have 3 times the monthly rent amount, just based on that, I never qualify.

I knew that in order to 'stay off the streets' and 'camping on the creek', kind of homeless, that I would have to have a mobile home, but eventually settled for a $1100, 2001, Ford E350 van to call 'home'. I was able to save enough money to get the van but it was by no means livable. For months, every time when I got my check, I purchased materials and paid people to work on the inside of my van. My main concern was Winter, and surviving the bitter cold in Colorado during the snow season. I focused on insulating the inside of my van by first buying some insulation from Lowes. It was thin and didn't help much at all, so I searched Craigslist for some thicker, better, more affordable insulation. Finally I found a man who recycles closed cell insulation boards. I bought a half dozen or so different large pieces that the seller delivered by truck and trailer. Even after the insulation boards were installed, it was still cold, especially at nights. With more insulation comes less living space, but it's essential for freezing night temperatures.

Then one day I went to a storage lot where a new friend, Danny was living. He was introduced to me as a 'Pro dumpster diver'. He had a 8x20 connex of rescued, still usable items that other people had thrown away. I was amazed at the things he found that other people put in the trash! Previously I bought a few things I thought I could use from him, some pillows and such. I had also bought things from another man at the same storage before I even met Danny. The other man has been selling 2nd hand goods for years from the same storage, even today. The very last time I walked into Danny's storage it was February 2020, and snow was on the ground. The first thing I noticed when I walked in was the black insulation covering all of his connex walls. Immediately I thought, I NEED THIS INSULATION IN MY VAN! I asked Danny where he got it and if I could buy some too. The ONLY thing he told me was that it was $50 per roll and he got it from another tenant just a couple of connexes away. So I turned around and went to see about buying a roll of the insulation. I gave the guy $50 and bought a roll. I noticed at least another half dozen rolls lined up and chose one. I knew they were used due to the large chunks that were missing from each one. I figured that he was a dumpster diver too. I didn't ask him and he didn't tell me anything, there wasn't much to tell, or so I thought. The roll was too heavy to move myself so a homeless man that was on the lot at that time helped me get it into my van and over to my storage where I cut off what I needed and posted ads to sell the rest on Craigslist and Offer Up, just like the man I found who I bought the closed cell boards had done. I got a big response from a lot of men who called me about my post on Craigslist, but at no time did any one of them indicate that there might be a problem with this particular insulation, which I thought resembled the mats we used in track and field when I was in Jr. High. At that time though, they were insulation because that's how they were being used upon first sight, and that's the reason I bought the roll.

One buyer who said his name was 'Jake' was particularly aggressive when he asked to buy the roll. He kept asking me strange questions over and over, like did I know the history of the 'insulation', he even mentioned something about 'Dollamur' wrestling mats, and how expensive they were. He also wanted to know if he could buy more and insisted on buying them from me even though I told him that the other rolls were not mine to sell, so I gave him the phone number to the guy I bought the mats from without getting permission to give his number out. I didn't see a problem with giving Jake the guy with the mats number, I figured I was helping him out to sell them, after all he had rows of these insulation mats, I'm sure he wanted to profit off them. Jake ended up texting me back saying that the number that I gave him was not good, and not the person with the mats. I called the guy I bought the insulation from, who I had only previously met a few times for short periods of time through Danny. I asked him if he wanted to sell anymore of the mats, his responded, "No, but you can." Then he added, "I just want $50 and you can keep anything over that." I figured since I had such a big response from trying to sell the one, I would go ahead and sell what I could and make a small profit. I asked him how I would go about getting into his 8x20 storage with the mats and he responded with the combination number that would open his combo lock to the unit. I made appointments with several buyers, gave out the address and location of that storage lot, used the combination number the tenant gave me and sold almost all of the mats to several different buyers, Jake was not one of those buyers, but was expected to buy one that day.

It was only after selling the mats that day out of the storage unit did learn that there was a problem. The guy I bought the mats from arrived on the storage lot driving a car I didn't recognize. As I was walking up to and approaching the vehicle the guy was driving, he angrily yelled at me to get away from the car. It took me by surprise, I didn't think I did anything wrong, why was me telling me to get away? I backed off confused and he got out of the vehicle and slowly walked towards me with a weird, confused, angry, look on his face. Since I didn't know this guy very well, (didn't even know his last name) I didn't know why he was mad at me and being so rude, after all I had just made him some money by selling his mats. The closer he got to me, the better I could see the weird look on his face.

When the mat guy was about 4-5 feet away from me, wearing his angry face, he said, "What is wrong with you? Why are you giving out my phone number to people? I immediately apologized and told him that I thought I was doing him a favor, and at the time when I gave his number to Jake, he wasn't answering his phone. I apologized profusely, thinking that's why he was angry, because I didn't ask him before giving out his number. I apologized a few more times, still thinking I hadn't done anything wrong, really and was still trying to sort all of the new information out in my head to make sense of it all.

Despite several sincere apologies the mat guy continued to scold me, and by then my PTSD said, "WARNING, DANGER, ANGRY MALE, POSSIBLE VIOLENCE, RUN, HIDE, NOW! That's when I learned for the first time, why he was so angry with me and WHY he didn't want to sell the mats himself! Previously I just assumed he was too busy to sell them himself, didn't have the time, was working, etc., something along those lines, there was nothing to indicate anything different, until he told me. Still with his angry face he said, "You're out here posting those mats all over the internet and Craigslist, giving my phone number out, and there are people all over the news and social media looking for them right now."

It took a few to process his words, and since he never once said, " Hey, just so you know, these mats are stolen...", nor did he ever admit to, or use the word, 'stolen' in any conversation, ever, I still had to figure it out based on what I had just learned. PTSD induced fear and panic took over. The mat guy closed with, "And you better not snitch, or else!" and he walked away. I stood there frozen for a moment before making the move to leave. This is when it 'clicked' for me, the guy I bought the mat from thought I was trying to set him up to be caught by the police, that's why he said I could sell them! He KNEW that they were stolen and figured I would take the fall! In other words, he set me up to get caught by the police. It was also the reason he didn't want me talking to him on the lot, that's why he stayed several feet away, it all started to make sense now, but it was too late. I had all of this anxiety, fear, information, and now threats, going through my mind all at once. The only thing I could think of was leaving as quickly as possible and getting to a safe, secure location where I could try and figure out what my next move was going to be. I got into my van and drove away. I was only a few miles away from the storage lot when the mat guy called me and when I answered he said, "Delete all of our messages and my phone number right now! You better not snitch either! Do it now!" I panicked and did what he told me but at that point didn't know why, but did it anyway out of extreme fear. People who have PTSD don't react the way, 'normal' people do in situations like this. That's the moment a panic attack began and I couldn't even think straight, my throat started to close, I had a hard time catching a breath, I was having chest pains and it seemed like the world was spinning out of control to the point where I was literally dizzy sitting in my van. I remember my hands shaking while I was doing what he told me and kept pressing the wrong keys out of sheer fear. Since I had only met and talked to the mat guy a few times with Danny, I had no clue of what he was capable of, or what he would do to me if I didn't do what he said. I flashed back to my own childhood experiences as I believed wholeheartedly that my life at that moment was in danger, and I did what he said because of it. The only one around to help me at that time was my Pug puppy Chocho that my daughter gave me after I got out of the hospital. I sat in my van, pulled over, and frozen from fear. I couldn't even think straight, nevertheless make an escape plan.

Then my phone started ringing again, this time it was that weird, aggressive guy, Jake that insisted on me selling the mats to him, the same one I gave the mat guy's phone number to. I rejected his calls several times and finally answered. He was insisting that I came back to the lot and sell him a mat. I had just learned that they were stolen and received threats from the mat guy and was not returning. I told Jake that I couldn't do it and that this is why I don't help people, because of things like this! He seemed angry that I refused to return to sell him a mat, but seeing as how I had just learned that they were stolen in addition to getting the threats, there was no way I was selling another mat to anyone!

Not a minute after I hung up with Jake my phone started ringing and the caller ID said, "PRIVATE." I didn't know who 'private' was and had enough to worry about at that moment. Finally I got a text from a man who said he was a police officer and to answer my phone, that's who 'private' was, the police. In just a few minutes I got lots of phone calls from 3 different males, all of which were yelling at me, and/or making threats. Anyone in my position would panic, I believe. If nothing more, the fear of violence and the possibility of being hurt, harmed, or worse, killed, would be enough to hinder anyone from making perfect or best decisions based on fear and threats. The LAST THING I, or anyone in my position would logically do, is return to the location and people where the threats came from! I just sat there, frozen from fear and panic, barely able to breathe with my throat about to close, unable to hold back the tears, unable to think clearly. The male caller who presented himself as a police officer was screaming, yelling, and threatening me on the phone. I remember thinking, and I still think, "WHY, why, why, is this man shouting at me like I stole his baby and killed his momma? What did I do so bad and wrong that he was acting as if I hurt him personally? He demanded that I return to the storage lot immediately, and I only had 10 minutes to do so. He asked me what I was driving and I told him the truth, my van. He described my van to me and said if I didn't return to the lot I just left, he was going to put an arrest warrant out for me. I told him everything I knew, including and more importantly the threats I just got. I told him that I was scared to death and that at that moment I didn't know who to be more fearful of, him, or the other guy who just called dishing out threats to me. I mean afterall, what did he expect? I got back to back calls and threats, all from men, alone, with no witnesses, no one to help protect me, nothing. I couldn't verify that this screaming man on the phone was even a police officer! How did I know that it wasn't the mat guy, or one of his friends, calling to lure me back to my demise? I didn't. Then I thought, why is he giving me a time limit or ultimatum? Why didn't he give me the option of meeting him at a police sub-station, or operations center - some place that was a safe zone? I even thought, maybe he wasn't a police officer because police don't scream and yell at people like this, it didn't make sense to me whatsoever. His last threat was, "If you don't come back to the lot in 10 minutes or less, I will get an arrest warrant issued for you and you're looking at a lot of prison time." Even if I wanted to return, I couldn't, I was PTSD frozen, and with good reason. Had this alleged police officer spoke to me in a normal tone of voice, like a human being, like I was innocent before proven guilty, circumstances may have been different. Had he given me the choice of meeting him at a different time or location, knowing I was scared, it almost certainly would have been different. I was given little time, and no options, not read my miranda rights or offered EQUAL PROTECTION UNDER THE LAW, especially after I told him that I had just gotten threats from the mat guy and didn't know who I was more scared of, the other guy, or the man who said he was a police officer. At the moment I received the first threat while on the lot, I WAS A VICTIM! NOT THE CRIMINAL! At the moment the alleged officer was informed that I had been threatened, he should have treated me as a victim, because I was! I was alone and scared, common sense would tell anyone that someone in my position wouldn't likely go back to the threats! That doesn't even make sense! So, the alleged officer kept his promise and got an arrest warrant issued for me. I've been hiding under threats and duress ever since, that was February 2020.

For this entire time over the past two years I have reached out to approximately 100 individuals, private, and non-profits, even government officials, to no avail. I have been turned away from every request for assistance by EVERYONE, why? Because I have a warrant! With the more time that passes, the more I feel defeated and more than devastated. Why when I was a victim of a burglary while in the hospital a year prior, was I turned away and denied access to Victims Services, violating my constitutional rights, and a year later convicted of a crime by a police officer for used wrestling mats? Equal Protection under the law, Cruel and unusual punishment, Victims Rights, VAWA, all laws and acts already in place, but not applicable to me? WHY?

It's been almost 2 years now since this happened, and even after 10-12 hours a day researching and at least 100 contacts made, I'm still in the same situation, under the same duress and threats, still scared, nothing has changed except my health which continues to decline as I fight the fight of my life. If I survive long enough to see this through to the end, I plan to dedicate the rest of my life to seeking justice for other women who undoubtedly go through what I've been through and more! Women who also have no other protection or resources to keep them safe and secure, and not victims to any men, including police officers.

It amazes me that out of all of the male buyers of these 'mats' not one of them, not one! Ever mentioned even the possibility that these mats were stolen. Not one person indicated that there might be a problem, if they had, I wouldn't be in this position right now. I was the ONLY uninformed party in this whole thing, and barely recovering from losing EVERYTHING of value in my life, just to be hunted like an animal and stripped of every constitutional right, like an animal. Even stray dogs are treated more humanely.

Today and every day I continue to fight. Some days are better, some are worse, but I keep on going because at one point I had decided that ending my own life would be better than having to endure all of this. It was only after watching the family of Vanessa Guillen on TV, the woman who was in the Army stationed in Texas where after reporting sexual harassment, went missing. It was watching and listening to her family, sisters and mother, plead for information on Vanessa. It made me think of my own mother, and how after she died, no one, NO ONE, no one, fought for justice after the loss of her life, and how her husband walked away a free man with NO cares in the world, no justice. That's when I decided I had to continue my fight, if not for myself, for my mother, and to be a voice for her, because she can't.

It is my intention to give my public testimony on Colorado's Senate floor to change the way law enforcement and victims of violence and crime are treated. Also I want to bring attention and change to the way people with Mental Health disorders, such as PTSD are treated by law enforcement. When police start victimizing the victims, we're ALL IN TROUBLE, and it has already begun. Be a voice for someone who can't speak for themselves, you will be making a better tomorrow for all!

Thank you for reading, and I hope readers learn something, if nothing else, after reading this. I can be reached for comments or a testimony at: [email protected]. May peace be with you always.