Your Honor

Your Honor,

I stand here today, to share my side of the story. The story that has not yet been told. I am certain everyone here has some sort of idea as to what my story is, but until you have lived it, you have no idea.

I thought you may need to get to know me a little, since this is the first time you are meeting me. I have a name, and it's not "Victim." I come from a small town on the east coast with one stoplight. My mom and dad are still together after 39 years, very much in love. I see them often. I have one sibling - a sister - who is my best friend. I grew up loving animals, writing, fishing, playing Barbie dolls, spending time with my grandparents, cheerleading and playing in the mud. I had a pet cow in the 5th grade. My childhood was filled with cookies, dancing, climbing trees, love, laughter and college football. I loved to be barefoot and never wanted to brush my hair. I decided to go to college for journalism, which eventually led me to a marketing career. I decided to go into the nonprofit sector, because I have a passion for helping others, especially kids who do not have the same opportunities I had while growing up. I love meeting new people and never really meet a stranger. I came out to Las Vegas to take a job, and to be closer to my sister and nephews. I graduate with my MBA this year. I was also very hopeful about finding true love.

Multiple sources have shared the statistic with me that over 80% of cases in which a gun has been discharged in a home, the victim is most likely leaving in a body bag. Metro Police, who showed up that night and who were amazing, shared that harsh info with me. They kept telling me how lucky I was to be alive. The detective I spoke with early that next morning, shared the same sentiment, with a lot of emotion in her voice. My victim’s advocate, my therapist, my attorney, others that I trust and confide in – they all keep telling me just how lucky I am to have escaped, still breathing.

I recently met up with an old mutual friend of ours, who returned some books my grandmother had given me from my childhood which was left in my shared home with the defendant upon my hasty exit. I quickly realized that the true, honest story of the events of that evening may have been downplayed. Misinterpreted, even. When she asked, “did he really take you away?” I had to pause for a moment, almost dumbfounded by her questioning me, before answering, “yes.” When she later stated, “I know there are two sides to every story,” I cringed, because while technically she was correct, there really is only one truth. And as much as “his side of the story” does not want to hear the facts, I am about to share them today.

That night will easily go down as one of the worst nights of my life. I have honestly tried to suppress it as much as I can, so I can live my life and focus on more important things like my career, school and loved ones. However, I have had to live with the nightmare of the events of that evening for months now, and I know that my road to recovery is far from over.

When someone asks you to marry them, what does that mean? A part of me always believed that this person, and in my case, this man, was taking a vow to always be there for me. To protect me from the monsters and evil of the world that only wanted to harm me. That night is when the man who I thought loved me, turned into the very monster that he should have protected me from.

The weekend before the incident, the defendant had pulled a gun which I had to wrestle out of his hands. Call it adrenaline or some kind of superhuman strength – but I took the weapon away from him, as well as another one he had stored in his truck, and locked them away in my safe. He was screaming that I had led him to want to kill himself, because I was such a terrible girlfriend, and that he was going to go into the desert and blow his brains out. I remember never being so scared before in my entire life, I just knew I had to stop him. We had gotten into a fight over my family, who was planning to visit us after the news of our engagement. Things were not the best between my family and the defendant. We had broken up a few weeks prior, after almost 2 years of dating and living together. I admit, I left him. It was due to an extensive amount of emotional abuse that I will not even go into today, and which will most likely take years of therapy to unwind.

My family was not fond of the defendant, this is a fact that I will not sugar coat. They were worried about my well-being, because they saw the signs of the emotional abuse before I even could. So, when their daughter announced that she was getting married to the person who she had just went through a terribly emotional breakup with – so much that she moved out and found a house to rent behind his back – they naturally had concerns. The defendant had said he wanted to speak with my parents, to apologize, to explain. As an eager bride-to-be, I was more than happy to help set this up. I did what I thought I should have been doing – trying to make this meeting happen. But since it was not to the standards of what the defendant thought should happen, we got into an argument.

The defendant had been drinking all day while I was at work, so I know this only added fuel to the fire. The argument escalated and he grabbed his gun out of his backpack, which I was able to secure. He ran to his truck to drive off, and I hopped in with him, not sure of what I was doing, but knowing I just wanted to try and save this man’s life. After he beat the steering wheel until his knuckles were torn and bloody, I coaxed him back inside to go to sleep. I was supposed to attend a coworker’s retirement party that next day, but I cancelled because I did not want to leave him alone. As the day progressed, I took his medic kit he had in my car and tended to his wounded knuckles. We stayed in a hotel that evening and had a steak dinner. It was as if this incident never happened. We had spoken about him getting help. He agreed. I told him I would help him find a therapist to see as soon as possible. He complained he did not want some “liberal cunt from an ivy league school to tell him what he should do about his emotions,” so he was not at all in a hurry to find someone. I did not dare tell anyone about this. I called my parents and cancelled their trip, for some unknown reason. I did not dare tell his brother or family, since I knew he did not want that. I did not tell authorities, because I did not want for him to lose his job. He had also told me that evening that if I were to call the cops, it would not end well for them. I was deathly afraid of both scenarios – injuring a police officer or the defendant losing his life due to his disobedience and disregard of the law. Little did I know this would be a catalyst to what would happen the following week.

That night actually started as a fairly decent evening. We both worked that day, so I got home first and was able to start making dinner for the two of us. I remember making air fryer chicken and baked asparagus. We decided to pop open a bottle of wine, just to wind down from the day. We ate dinner, watched TV and started talking about upcoming wedding plans. It was enjoyable at the time, as we talked about the different family members from each other’s side that we wanted each other to meet. I remember him speaking about his Russian grandma, and how I would love her. I honestly wanted to meet her, as she sounded like an amazing lady. The subject moved to my grandparents, and next, my immediate family – ultimately getting to my one and only sibling – my sister.

My sister and the defendant have never gotten along, which I believe is a completely normal human thing for couples to go through. And even I admit, my sister can be difficult at times. She knows it too. My sister and I have a good relationship – even after the news of the engagement, she was hesitant but wanted me to know she supported my decision and was happy for me if I was happy. The conversation that night quickly moved to him disrespecting my sister – for no real reason. We had been having a nice evening, and he began criticizing my sister. I did not see this conversation ending well, so I simply remember saying, “I understand you and my sister don’t get along, and you don’t have to like her, but I really don’t appreciate you talking about her like that in front of me.”

Once I said those words, it is as if a light switch went off. He stood up, face red with anger, and yelled that I was never going to be on his side. He screamed that I would always have my family’s back. It was as if the night had just continued from the previous weekend and he took up where he left off. Only this time, it escalated much further than I ever thought it would.

The defendant became so enraged, he ripped through the house and immediately went to grab his gun in his backpack. I am unsure why I returned it to him earlier that week after the weekend prior, but I believe it was because he harshly demanded I do so while claiming he would get help. Next, he went and grabbed my gun that was in my vehicle in the garage. He also grabbed another gun which was in his truck parked in the driveway. Three guns. He began spitting hate and anger towards me, saying that this time, he was not only going to blow his brains out – he was going to do it in front of me so I would have to watch. I do not believe I have ever been so scared as I was in that moment. I did not know what to do. He took two bottles of red wine and poured them over the white carpet of the house I was renting. As I was looking at my phone, hoping to contact his brother, he took it from my hands and smashed it into pieces over my great-grandmother’s bookshelf. Now I was stuck with no phone. And he had 3 guns. I remember trying to reason with him as calmly as I could. Nothing I could say calmed him down. He took the gun he grabbed out of my vehicle and was waving it erratically in the air, pointing to his temple, then waving it again. I am not sure what I said next to make him react like he did, but soon I was faced with the barrel of my own gun. He said, “sit the fuck down before I shoot you,” so I sat in the nearest chair towards the corner of the living room wall. At this point, he began yelling in my face, demeaning me and telling me what a terrible person I was because I was choosing my family over him. I was terrified. I had no choice but to listen to his demands. As he cornered me into a chair, he stood over me, spitting and screaming at me. It became so heated that he took my gun and pointed it into the wall inches from my face. He pulled the trigger.

I vividly remember the smoky smell that entered my nostrils after the gunshot. My ears immediately began ringing since it was shot within such close proximity to where I was sitting. My head started pounding. I remember our poor, innocent dog yelping from the noise that took place just above his head, since he was near my feet, as he ran off to the far corner of the room. I will never, ever forget that feeling. It was dread, mixed with hopelessness. I felt utter hopelessness. And realized that I may die that evening.

I believe it was next he started yelling at me that I needed to admit everything I had done wrong to him, to his family. My wrongdoing was that I had left about a month prior because the emotional abuse had gotten so bad, I could not take it anymore. I remember him calling his mom, telling her what a terrible human I was and handed the phone to me. I do not even remember what I told her, I just remember saying something along the lines of, “we need help.” The defendant proceeded to tell his mom that he wanted to say goodbye to her and alluded to the fact that he wanted to kill himself. He hung up the phone call with his mom, turned and looked at me, gun in hand, and said, “if you care about me at all, you’ll get in the truck with me.” I am not sure how else to describe this as him not “taking me away,” when I had no choice unless I wanted to die as his fist clenched the gun he just fired.

I got into the truck. That was the beginning of the longest 4 or 5 hours of my life. He drunkenly drove out of my neighborhood into a desolate lot. I remember passing a group of Metro cops who were pulled over on the side street, praying that they would see him driving erratically and pull us over. I believe he even said something like, “I bet you wish they would pull me over and take me away forever, huh?” I did not answer.

We got to a culd-a-sac and he parked his truck. He forced me out of the truck and walked me into the desert. I recall looking into the night sky and just praying that if God was listening or if any of my guardian angels were out there, to please help. Not only me, but both of us. I distinctly remember worrying about how my family would react if I were to be killed in this desert by the man who said he would love me forever. How would the news be broken to my 6-year-old nephews who loved their aunt with all their hearts? Their little faces entered my mind as I stared at the moon. The thought of them sound asleep in their beds, as I encountered a living nightmare turned my stomach. I remember a sharp pain entering my chest of utter fear – a dread I have never felt before in my life. A dread that no one should ever have to feel. I silently called out to my friend, Sara, who had been brutally raped and murdered 5 years ago. I called for her to help me if she was listening. Watching. Because of her incident, I already knew there was evil in this world. I just never knew I would find it in the man who said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.

I remember him saying we were going far into the desert so he could “blow his brains out.” I had no idea what plans he had for me or why I was there. I just remember the entire time, and the whole reason I got into that truck, was to keep him from harming himself. However, now that the gun had been turned on me, I now had to worry about him harming me. He was so drunk, and so enraged, that he was trouncing through cactus with flip flops. At one point one went through his foot, and he fell to the dirt, writhing in pain. I went over to help him pull it out, and as I tried to do so, my hand landed on another cactus. As I was trying to remove the barb in my hand so I could help him, he kept violently pushing me, saying that I was selfish, and I was more worried about helping myself than him. I calmly told him that in order to help him, I had to get this cactus out of my hand first. Eventually, I yanked it out of his foot, my own hand bloody and bruised from rapidly yanking the thorn out so I could help him.

Next, he began hitting himself in the head with a rock. I tried to stop him, but he tensed back as if he were going to hit me with the rock. He eventually fell to the ground on his back and began vomiting. I went over and turned him on his side, so he did not choke on his own vomit. It was then I began running back towards the houses we parked near, hoping for any glimpse of a Metro cop or homeowner. He raced after me, tripped me, and began pushing his fingers into my chest and throat with violent force.

As I got up off of the ground, I tried to secretly take my cracked phone and text his brother. I texted, “We need help.” And sent him our location. However, my phone was broken, and nothing ever went through. I have never felt so helpless in my life. It was also at that point the defendant discovered what I was trying to do, so he took my phone and threw it far into the desert, pushing me back onto the dusty, cold desert ground filled with cactus.

While this was one of the worst nights of my life, it was also the night I truly began believing in miracles. The defendant finally answered a call from his brother who had been trying to reach us both. We spoke with his brother for a long time. The entire time, his brother was getting into his vehicle and tracking the defendant’s phone. I had never been so happy in my life to see headlights.

Upon his brother arriving to our location in the desert, the defendant became angry and ran off. I went with his brother and got into his truck, and he coaxed the defendant back into the vehicle. The emotional insults towards me had been flying non-stop and they only got worse from this point on. We arrived at the house and his brother told him to pack a bag and to come stay the night with him. Eventually, both of them left my house and I locked the door behind me and went upstairs to check on our dog. Not even 2 minutes later, I heard banging on the door, someone yelling my name and the words, “open the door.” I could tell it was not the defendant.

The defendant and his brother barreled into my living room. The defendant was attempting to put his brother into a headlock, and they were wrestling. His brother had a gun on his hip, and I remember seeing the defendant reaching for the weapon. It was at this point, his brother told me to grab the keys out of his pocket, get his phone out of the truck, and call 911. Once the words, “call 911” were uttered, I believed in the true seriousness of this incident. After the police showed up, that was the last time I saw the defendant until today.

Because of this incident, I’ve had to endure extensive financial hardship upon relocating to a safer dwelling where the defendant could not find me. My loved ones had to step in and help me clean up the mess he left behind soon after, because I was mentally and physically unable to – red wine stains on the carpet of a rental home, caused by his rage-induced behavior; taking time out of their life to help me pick up the pieces of mine. Imagine a father patching a bullet hole in his daughter’s rental home, which was shot only inches away from her head by the man who said he would commit his life to her. My father has still not talked about this with me in depth, and I can see the change in his outlook on the world. He is quiet nowadays.

That night, the defendant took away my innocence. My free spirited-ness. My ability to trust others. The very things which made me, me. I have always been an open-minded, loving person. I give everyone the benefit of the doubt, and truly see the good in everyone when others cannot. I have always been a great, heavy sleeper. Since the incident, I have woken drenched in sweat from nightmares – ones where I am being hunted by the defendant, being chased. He is always wanting to kill me in my dreams. I have had to seek extensive therapy for what I have experienced. I honestly believe this may have to be something that continues for the unforeseeable future. I am fully traumatized, although the strong side of me does not like to admit it. I think differently. I interact with others differently. I am not the same woman as I was before.

Your honor, this incident has not only changed my life. It has changed everyone’s life around me. My family, friends and coworkers have tried to be there for me the best they can, but many of them have never had to experience something like this in their lifetime. And in this time of turmoil, I cannot help but think of what the defendant has done to his own family. His own friends. Not only what he has put me and my loved ones through…but what he has put his side through as well. He has a great family and support system. In fact if it weren’t for his brother, I may not be standing here today. For that, I am forever grateful, because even he knew that I needed protection from his own family that evening.

The defendant’s support system is strong. I understand, because when you love someone so much, you will have their back no matter what. However, no matter how many character witnesses or positive stories about the defendant that have been shared, there are only two people in this world who know what really happened that night. Those two people are in this courtroom today. And while the incident may have been downplayed to Your Honor, or both sides of counsel or to family and friends – we both know the truth. I have only spoken the truth and will continue to. In the beginning, I was afraid to tell the entire story, but I have since realized that by telling the truth, it may help everyone in the long run. Both he and I know exactly what happened in that house, in his truck and even out in the desert. I cannot drive by an empty, desolate space in Las Vegas without wanting to break down. I genuinely believe he was ready to kill us both that evening. Even if he says that was not the case, I am not sure how else I am supposed to feel. I am not sure what else I was supposed to think in that situation. This man pointed a gun at my face, shot a bullet inches from my head into the wall, with our poor, innocent dog there to witness it all. When he told me to get into the truck to drive into the desert, I felt as if I had no choice.

Because of this incident, I have to constantly watch my back, whether walking to my car after work or simply running into a store. I live in fear that his black Toyota is going to pull up next to me at a red light, and I will look over to see the rage in his eyes and veins popping out of his neck like that terrible night and as I have come to admit, many instances before as well.

I am afraid for my family and loved ones, and hope and pray that the defendant never tries to step foot on their property – for his sake and theirs. No one should have to live in fear like this. No one should feel like they have to constantly watch out for their own life. However, this incident has made me more vigilant, aware and very much prepared.

Over these past several months, I have come to terms with the fact that I was being emotionally abused throughout the duration of the entire relationship. While emotional abuse is no crime, it can obviously lead to where we are today. The ridicule, the name calling, the insults, the disrespect, the isolation…this is what drove me to leave him the first time. I left, and in his eyes, I betrayed him. And by me betraying him, he felt as if he had the right to point a loaded gun to my face. You know what? In all actuality, he betrayed me. From the very beginning. He created a hostile environment where I never felt free to be myself. He would call me weak. He called me stupid. Unintelligent. He would disgrace my choice of career in the nonprofit sector, saying I was terrible at business. Who would stay in this situation? Why did he make me feel like the guilty one for leaving? Why didn’t he just let me go? He held up a façade of him being a good, caring partner. That because he stayed at home all day and did not go anywhere, I should be grateful. To kiss the ground he walked on. Today, I am going to tell the defendant what I have wanted to tell him for a very long time – you were a terrible boyfriend. The good and positive times are far outweighed by the bad. As much as he may not want to admit this, he knows it too.

I took him back. I even remember his half-hearted apology, yet I thought I was so in love with this man, I should try and make it work no matter what. I remember finally getting a chance to share why I left, lay out what needed to change in order for us to work. It was met with hostility. Why was I pointing out everything that he did wrong, and not pointing out what I did wrong? This was a constant theme throughout our time together. Nothing was ever really his fault. Constant blame. No accountability. However, I agreed to marry this man. That is when things got even worse.

If wanting my family and my future husband to get along is a crime, then so be it. That is the only thing I am guilty of. Did that deserve a gun to my face, which was then shot inches away from my head into the wall? That seemed to be the catalyst behind not only one, but two gun-filled weekends. The first weekend, I did not report, because I did not want for the defendant to lose his job. Because I cared about him. The second weekend…there was no choice.

Bottom line is this. I wanted nothing but love and happiness from his man. It was a constant battle to earn that. I tried everything I could within my mental power to make him happy, but in the end, we just were not a good fit. As badly as I wanted it, and as badly as he wanted it, we would have never made each other happy. Rather than realize that and respectfully go our own ways, he put me through living hell.

He even continued to put me through hell after his arrest. Having his lawyer personally reach out to me to try to scare me into providing the defendant with gains from an investment account in my name, just because he had placed a few thousand dollars in there before our breakup. An account I never wanted him to have access to from the very beginning, but he insisted. An account he used to make illegal trades. He thought he was being smooth. Leaving me to pay the taxes and having to hire an accountant to help me sort through the mess of all of the day trades he had made on my behalf. Which I never authorized. I blame myself for letting him have access to such personal information. He also never deleted the trading app and was still stalking my every move. He still had notifications for my account set up on his phone. I hold myself accountable for allowing this to happen. However, when he had his lawyer contact me, I could not help but think a decent human being would have just let this go, especially after everything he put me through. Maybe even just ask for the original investment amount back. This showed me that he had no remorse for his actions. All he cared about was $20,000. That amount of money was worth more to him than my life. I wanted this to stop. I was so tired of fighting, I gave in to the settlement, but not before I had to hire a lawyer myself. I know deep down I could have fought this, but I am mentally exhausted. The one thing I could do though, was call the DA’s office and let them know I would definitely be speaking at sentencing, in-person. So here I am.

My only other request is that the defendant never try and reach out or contact me again in this lifetime. I want nothing to do with him, as there is no apology which could make up for what he has done to me. While I wish him a happy life, I wish him a happy life far away from me. I do not want to live in constant fear of him showing up somewhere I am, of me having to defend myself again. I want to live a happy life as well, and I cannot do that with the thought of him being able to reach out or contact me whenever he pleases. This also goes for my entire family, my friends and my coworkers as well. Please, leave all us alone and never contact any of them again.

Retaliation is a concern. I of all people, know firsthand what it is like to be on his bad side. I hope that he will learn and grow from this. But ultimately, I pray that he NEVER, EVER does this to anyone else. No woman, man or animal should have to go through what I went through. I would never wish this upon anyone.

In closing, Your Honor, I ask that you make the right and just decision regarding the defendant’s sentence. I have shared my honest testimony, and you have seen what his actions have done to not only me, but everyone involved on each side. I appreciate having this time to tell my side of the story, and for sharing my pain.

Before I go, I do want to share one thing, that is selfishly for my own closure. This may have no bearing on the final decision, it is just something I want to express since this will hopefully be the last time I ever have to see or even hear the defendant’s name ever again.

I recently attended my aunt’s wedding last month, and all of our extended family came. It was such an amazing weekend. I did not plan on sharing my story with everyone, but I ended up sharing it with my closest relatives, who instead of making me feel like a failure, built me up and supported me. That night, I got to dance to every single song played with my sister, my mom and dad, my brother-in-law, my cousins…even my grandma. The final song played was “I Had the Time of My Life” from Dirty Dancing. One of my nephews, who is 6, was dancing up a storm with me and I told him I was about to do “The Lift” and spin him around. We did. And as I looked up and saw the absolute joy and laughter in his face, I started crying. I looked around at this entire room of people who love and support me. If things would have went differently that fateful evening, I may not have had the opportunity to be there. To enjoy that moment. To live. No one should ever have to think like this. I was happy to be ALIVE.

Last weekend, I visited my grandparents back on the east coast. It has been almost 2 years since I have been able to make it back. There was a moment on the porch when it was just my grandpa and me. I had not been wanting to share the incident with them, just because I did not want to upset them too much, especially during everything that happened in 2020. He is in a frail state, so I try and keep my major issues to myself. Well, this particular trip, my grandpa asked to know everything, so I told him. I felt like I owed it to him to be honest. As he and I sat on the porch, rocking in our rocking chairs, I knew then that he had been hurt deeply. As I told my story, tears ran down his 85-year-old face. My biggest fear is that he will leave this world, still worrying about me. Worrying about my safety. I did not want to tell him this story because of that fear. But he asked, and I felt it was right to be honest. My grandpa, an Air Force Veteran and a retired police officer, is my absolute favorite person on this planet. He is an amazing man. He and I have shared a special bond since my childhood that will never be replaced. To hurt him by sharing this story has been absolutely heartbreaking for me. He is greatly disappointed in the so-called man that had asked for my hand in marriage.

For the sake of my grandpa, I want him and everyone else to know I am going to be OK. I am going to succeed. I will prevail. Whatever “weakness” or “stupidity” or “selfishness” the defendant thought I exhibited, has never existed. I have never been weak. I have always been strong. I will always be strong. I have never been stupid. I have always been smart. I will always be smart. I have never been selfish to the extent he claimed. I care about my loved ones deeply, and often worry about their well-being more so than my own. It is why I asked to appear here in person today. So, I could look the defendant in the eyes and let him know what he has done to me. That there is no apology worth accepting. As bad as our relationship got, I would have never, ever threatened his life like he did mine. But he has not ruined me, as he had planned to. I am going to take this tragic event and turn it into something positive. My heart is set on helping others who are suffering through similar events; help them build their confidence to face their fears and abusers head on. I have been blessed with the amazing support system of family, friends and coworkers. Many people do not have that. So, if anything, asshole, you have given me the drive to make a real difference in this world, and to ensure that no one has to face monsters like you, alone.

I truly hope you get the help you need and that you change the way you think about your life and the lives of others. Always be thankful for your family and the support system you have. Never take that for granted. And at the very end of the day, even though I hope to never have to see or hear from you again, I hope that God blesses your life and that one day you actually deserve those blessings. Thank you.