Abuse of Power

THE clearinghouse on police-perpetrated domestic violence

...our need to be heard is overcoming our fear

After Marriage

We lived together for two years before we were married. Everything was good. Everyone puts their best face forward in a relationship in the beginning.

We both had friends. He had cop friends and guys he rode motorcycles with. We did things together, too; had a lot of fun. We shared everything.

Once we were married, he changed. I was his property. It's like a spider in a web. In the beginning it's a control thing. He started eliminating my friends, started asking about my money, stopped me from doing anything without him. I'd thought that my independence was what had attracted him to me, but after our marriage, he had to control everything. He didn't want me to work, or even to drive a car.

Once you start pulling away from your family and friends, people just start looking the other way, which is the abuser's whole goal. Or people stay away because he's so mean. People hated the way he treated me - he introduced me as his bitch. He'd hold me by the back of my neck, not a nice arm around the shoulder, but like I was a dog.

It got to be that we had no relationship with each other. He was drinking a lot, staying out all night. I wasn't allowed to ask him anything. He kept tabs on me, accused me of having sex with any man around.

A few months into the marriage he started beating me up, raping me; all kinds of abuse. In the beginning he was careful about what showed. He pulled my hair, tied nylons around my legs, hit me where the bruises wouldn't show. He broke my ribs a couple of times. (You can't see that, either.) I wore turtle necks and long pants in the summer to hide bruises. I didn't tell anyone because I was ashamed, humiliated, degraded.

It took me three or four years to call his Captain. I told him what was happening and that he was getting worse. I told him I was scared about his drinking, shooting out lights in the street for fun, that he talked about how he was abusing people on the street on duty. I told him he goes to work drunk - straight from the bar. I didn't want him to lose his job, I wanted him to get help. Something had to be done. They didn't do anything but talk to him, which made him crazy mad at me that I'd had the gall to call his Captain. He threatened to kill me. Then he left — just went out with his friends one night and didn't come home. Days later he sent a friend by to pick up some clothes.

But then he started coming over anytime he wanted to, because I was "still his wife." He'd be drunk, beat me up, tie me up. He'd make it so I couldn't go to work the next day. At that point, I didn't know what to do. I was afraid to do anything. I couldn't sleep or eat, I was living on cigarettes and coffee. I lost weight, I lost my hair, I was a nervous wreck.

The worst time was when he woke me up by hitting me, threw the bed upside down. He put a gun to my head. My son was standing right there in the doorway. He said, "Today is the day you die." My son was going, "Don't, Daddy, don't!" and he was there shaking in his little shirt and underwear. He pulled the trigger — all I heard was a click and I thought I was dead. And then he said, "Shit, there's no bullet." He was mad that there was no bullet. I don't know if there was only one in there and he was playing Russian roulette or what.

I filed for a divorce and moved in with my family. He terrorized all of us. He had my car towed. He vandalized my car. He ripped out my entire dashboard. He slashed my tires, smashed my windows. He used to throw beer bottles at my mom's house — come there at 2 or 3 in the morning, yelling he was going to get me. He followed me in his car or someone else's car. He always knew what I was doing.

I got an Order of Protection, but he was still able to see my son. I was so afraid, but my son wanted to see his dad. He had this faith that his dad was going to get better, that we were going to be a happy family again. He was trying to be the peacemaker in the whole thing. He was trying so hard and he was only 7 years old. His dad didn't even miss him, but he wanted to have control of us. He didn't want to give it up. On visits, he'd grill my son about what I was doing, where I was working, if I was dating. When he had him, he left him with relatives, didn't spend any time with him.

We've been divorced 8 years and every night I check the doors and windows, I still check my car. I'm always, always, always watching. I don't sleep.

He took my spirit, he took my soul. I had a lot of life. I had a big heart, I trusted everybody. I loved life and now I don't. I'm bitter. I'm hurt, scared, burned. I'm frustrated and tired of being afraid.