I am one of those people who likes new year's resolutions. I made some great ones last year. I didn't achieve all of them, but I worked on each a bit, which makes me proud. This year, I decided to renew a few of last year's resolutions - do more yoga and learn spanish - plus, I've been forming some rather unique new ones. One of the most important is that I won't beat myself up for being a good person. It sounds silly, I know, but my last post was full of detest for my "good" self, so I felt that I had to decide whether I would hate myself, change myself, or accept myself. I decided that being a good person was not something that I should be fighting. The real problem is that I need to be smarter and safer.
That leads to the second resolution: I will google people more. You might be laughing, but as I'm building a new life for myself I am letting new people into it, rapidly. If I have a tool in my hand that will give me some background about those that I am befriending then I should use it! This is a big deal to me because I am also a polite person and "googling" someone feels impolite. It even feels a little sneaky. It feels so strange, in fact, that it took me the first 20 days into the new year before I decided to do it.
Drumroll for my first google project . . . I made a new friend, a man quite a bit older than myself. I enjoy his company. He seems smart and kind. He flatters me to a ridiculous extent, which made me question whether he is flirting with me. I feel a mix of pleasure and discomfort in his presence. It bothered me to the point that he became my first google project. I sighed as I pulled up an old news article from the google list with his mug shot on it. Several years ago he killed a cyclist while drunk driving. The article pointed out that it was not his first incident of drunk driving. He went to prison for several years.
Lord almighty, a felon and possible alcoholic. Just my luck.
This brings me to my third resolution: don't hide significant things from the people who matter. Like anyone else, I have a tendency to glaze over information that I believe my family and friends will criticize. It might be a natural and normal habit, but I've decided it is immature and sometimes harmful. The people who have proven their love for me in the last few years are exactly the people I should be sharing the story of my life with and trusting them to help me form a healthier, safer existence.
My google project is a good example because, even as I read the article, I knew that I would probably still give him a chance at friendship. My instinct was to not mention any of this to my mother, who I feared would judge me as a fool for being kind to a convict. However, I was true to my resolution and told her about the story. I shared it in a black humor tone, starting with "Do you want to hear something awful?" After the story, she just looked sad and shook her head, but didn't say anything harsh. I figure I'll give her a day to soak it in and then ask her what she thinks about it tomorrow.
And if my mother suggests that I stay away from the convicted drunk driving murderer? Well, that makes sense. I'll be glad that my mother wants me safe. And I might even listen to her . . . But he did serve his time and has been "rehabilitated". He is probably sober. He might be terribly repentent and needs the world to give him a chance . . . Or he is a manipulative addict looking for a good person to be his patsy.
Well, this debate could go on a while, so I'm going to set it on the shelf for a week or so . . . In the meantime, I will just be satisfied that I am keeping to my new resolutions.
Oh yeah, Jake was sentenced to 8 years in prison for combined counts of sexual assault and attempted sexual assault on a minor by a person in a position of trust. This news is still soaking into my head and heart. I'm not exactly disappointed or upset by it. I figure I can take my time in forming my opinion and reaction on this news.
Showing posts with label sex crimes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sex crimes. Show all posts
Monday, January 21, 2013
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Water Heater Drama
I never knew a water heater could spark so much drama. Well, mine died a week and a half ago. My mother was visiting, so she volunteered to call a plumber while I was at work (after a very cold shower). The plumber discovered that the water heater had some serious problems, including the possibility that it had become a fire hazard. Basically, it was time for a new water heater.
I have been avoiding talking to Jake, but I felt the need to let him know about the water heater. I consider this house to be HIS house and, thus, HIS water heater and HIS cost to replace it. I thought it was a simple enough message that I could just tell his dad.
I called Big Rev and started to explain the issues that the water heater was having, including black smoke coming out the exhaust pipe. I told him that I had a plumber look at it. He said, "I wish you hadn't called a plumber because I can tell you how to fix it."
"Oh really," I said, "how's that?"
"Well, go down to the basement."
"Uh-huh." I wasn't moving.
"Now climb up on the counter beside the water heater."
"Uh-huh."
"Unplug it from the battery back-up, wait a few seconds, then plug it back in."
"Are you kidding?! I just told you that BLACK SMOKE is coming out the exhaust and you want me to just unplug and replug it?!"
We exchanged a few more angry sentences and then he hung up on me. That did me in. I felt like Big Rev was representative of Jake, which meant that I was alone with the water heater problems. I was ready to move out on the spot! Unfortunately, it just couldn't be done in a day. After a frenzy of stamping my feet and cussing loudly, I ended up crumpled on the floor sobbing with my mom hugging me.
A little while later, Jake called and I answered it. He was calm and - dare I say it - comforting. This was the man I fell in love with. The man who solves my problems. The man who is on my side. He listened to my water heater problems and agreed to buy a new one without my asking. The conversation naturally moved to other things: his court date that I didn't attend, his treatment that he feels is not helping, and our relationship.
He acknowledged that I have a lot of reasons to be mad at him, but he wants to resolve our problems and move forward. I felt like such an ass while he was saying these things. He doesn't know that I'm planning on divorcing him. He's concocting dreams of our future and I'm planning my escape. I tried to gently tell him that I don't know if we'll have a future together. He suggested I come over and spend time with him so that we can know if we're "still compatible". I told him that we are as compatible as we've always been, but that didn't change the situation he's in, the damage he's done, and his inability to be a father.
He took a lot of offense to that part about being a father. I told him that, from what I could gather, he was likely to go to prison for at least a few years. He cut me off to say that he thinks he could just get probation. We bickered about the reality of that for a few minutes and then the conversation went on with him trying to explain how things can get better, if I can just give him that chance . . .
I had previously made up my mind not to tell him about the divorce until I file. Jake has never been hostile in my presence, but he's been deceptive so many times now that I feel I can't even trust my own belief in his apparent non-violent demeanor. So I have been mum about the divorce out of fear that he would react in a dangerous way. As we talked on the phone, I softened up to him. I never lost my determination to divorce him, but I started feeling bad that I was keeping it a secret. I started imagining the day that he would receive notice and how heartbroken he would be. I had to really struggle during the conversation to keep from blurting out, "I'M LEAVING!"
Somehow, I managed to hold it in, but I allowed myself to repeat what I've told him before, "I don't know how long I can stay here. I can't afford the mortgage and this isn't good for the kids. I might have to leave." We were both crying.
Anyhow, it ended with him asking me to call him again some time. "Sure," I said. I really meant it, too.
I immediately called my therapist because I felt deeply disturbed about the whole conversation - mostly because of how much he could soften me up with just a few kind words. She listened kindly and then asked me if I had read his psycho sexual evaluation. She asks me that every time I talk to her. For the longest time I had the excuse that no one had given me a copy. So she gave me a copy. Really, I didn't want to read it. I felt like I had already accepted that he is sexually disturbed and a likely danger to his own children, so why did i need to read the details behind those facts? Well, this time when she asked I felt moved to actually do it. I sat down and read about all the ways he is a sexual deviant.
The report was nauseating and sad. A few things stuck out to me. First, he is attracted to every age and gender. They have a special device to measure that, you know, but I don't really feel like getting into that.That part actually didn't disturb me as much as the next part about how he doesn't have proper empathy for others when it comes to sex. Basically, he is not able to distinguish if a person is desiring sex or not. This is dangerous enough when you're dealing with adults, but he could possibly misinterpret a child's innocent affection as a sexual advance. I thought about how he used to sit with Elise on the sofa and watch T.V. Did he make any misinterpretations then? Luckily, the next part of the evaluation summarized the polygraph in which he was found to be truthful in denying any sexual contact with his own kids. Thank God. The most painful part of the report was reading the statements of Jake and of the victim. The victim's statement was so damning. I expected that Jake would downplay his bad behavior - and he did. I was equally expecting that she would exaggerate it. But everything she said rang true. He came on to her and said inappropriate things to her. Everything she described had him down to the letter. I had previously believed that he had just got caught up in the moment with her, but now I know for sure that he was actively pursuing her. He was planning it and following through . . . and he was enjoying it. As if he was living out his favorite wet dream.
But wait, there's more! He told the evaluator that he had an affair when he was 33. That would be the second year of our marriage, about the time Elise was one year old. If I needed something to solidify my resolve in divorcing him, that would do it! Sure, I knew he had gone to massage parlors and had internet sex with strangers, but he wouldn't have called any of those affairs. And I think I know who it was with, which makes it doubly hideous, but that's another long blog post for a different day . . .
As I reached the end of the report, I was absolutely sure that this marriage was over and that our kids needed to be removed from this situation. There was just one thing that made me sorry about this decision. It was a line in the evaluation summary: "Periodically sad, empty, and lonely, he is likely to have deep frustrated yearnings for social acceptance." That is the kind of thing that makes me want to stay and give him the love he obviously needs because he will never have that social acceptance.
But every bit of energy I spend taking care of Jake (who can't return that love and care properly) weakens me and lowers the chances that our kids will have a healthy childhood. Our kids need me - and deserve me - more than he does.
The water heater, the phone conversation, and the psycho sexual evaluation left me emotionally drained. I spent a good portion of that afternoon unable to function, holding on to a cup of tea, and just shivering. Thank goodness my mother was there. When I resurfaced from my emo-coma, we made plans to get away for the weekend and get away for good. It's going to take a few months, but the plans are solidifying and I am looking forward to it.
I have been avoiding talking to Jake, but I felt the need to let him know about the water heater. I consider this house to be HIS house and, thus, HIS water heater and HIS cost to replace it. I thought it was a simple enough message that I could just tell his dad.
I called Big Rev and started to explain the issues that the water heater was having, including black smoke coming out the exhaust pipe. I told him that I had a plumber look at it. He said, "I wish you hadn't called a plumber because I can tell you how to fix it."
"Oh really," I said, "how's that?"
"Well, go down to the basement."
"Uh-huh." I wasn't moving.
"Now climb up on the counter beside the water heater."
"Uh-huh."
"Unplug it from the battery back-up, wait a few seconds, then plug it back in."
"Are you kidding?! I just told you that BLACK SMOKE is coming out the exhaust and you want me to just unplug and replug it?!"
We exchanged a few more angry sentences and then he hung up on me. That did me in. I felt like Big Rev was representative of Jake, which meant that I was alone with the water heater problems. I was ready to move out on the spot! Unfortunately, it just couldn't be done in a day. After a frenzy of stamping my feet and cussing loudly, I ended up crumpled on the floor sobbing with my mom hugging me.
A little while later, Jake called and I answered it. He was calm and - dare I say it - comforting. This was the man I fell in love with. The man who solves my problems. The man who is on my side. He listened to my water heater problems and agreed to buy a new one without my asking. The conversation naturally moved to other things: his court date that I didn't attend, his treatment that he feels is not helping, and our relationship.
He acknowledged that I have a lot of reasons to be mad at him, but he wants to resolve our problems and move forward. I felt like such an ass while he was saying these things. He doesn't know that I'm planning on divorcing him. He's concocting dreams of our future and I'm planning my escape. I tried to gently tell him that I don't know if we'll have a future together. He suggested I come over and spend time with him so that we can know if we're "still compatible". I told him that we are as compatible as we've always been, but that didn't change the situation he's in, the damage he's done, and his inability to be a father.
He took a lot of offense to that part about being a father. I told him that, from what I could gather, he was likely to go to prison for at least a few years. He cut me off to say that he thinks he could just get probation. We bickered about the reality of that for a few minutes and then the conversation went on with him trying to explain how things can get better, if I can just give him that chance . . .
I had previously made up my mind not to tell him about the divorce until I file. Jake has never been hostile in my presence, but he's been deceptive so many times now that I feel I can't even trust my own belief in his apparent non-violent demeanor. So I have been mum about the divorce out of fear that he would react in a dangerous way. As we talked on the phone, I softened up to him. I never lost my determination to divorce him, but I started feeling bad that I was keeping it a secret. I started imagining the day that he would receive notice and how heartbroken he would be. I had to really struggle during the conversation to keep from blurting out, "I'M LEAVING!"
Somehow, I managed to hold it in, but I allowed myself to repeat what I've told him before, "I don't know how long I can stay here. I can't afford the mortgage and this isn't good for the kids. I might have to leave." We were both crying.
Anyhow, it ended with him asking me to call him again some time. "Sure," I said. I really meant it, too.
I immediately called my therapist because I felt deeply disturbed about the whole conversation - mostly because of how much he could soften me up with just a few kind words. She listened kindly and then asked me if I had read his psycho sexual evaluation. She asks me that every time I talk to her. For the longest time I had the excuse that no one had given me a copy. So she gave me a copy. Really, I didn't want to read it. I felt like I had already accepted that he is sexually disturbed and a likely danger to his own children, so why did i need to read the details behind those facts? Well, this time when she asked I felt moved to actually do it. I sat down and read about all the ways he is a sexual deviant.
The report was nauseating and sad. A few things stuck out to me. First, he is attracted to every age and gender. They have a special device to measure that, you know, but I don't really feel like getting into that.That part actually didn't disturb me as much as the next part about how he doesn't have proper empathy for others when it comes to sex. Basically, he is not able to distinguish if a person is desiring sex or not. This is dangerous enough when you're dealing with adults, but he could possibly misinterpret a child's innocent affection as a sexual advance. I thought about how he used to sit with Elise on the sofa and watch T.V. Did he make any misinterpretations then? Luckily, the next part of the evaluation summarized the polygraph in which he was found to be truthful in denying any sexual contact with his own kids. Thank God. The most painful part of the report was reading the statements of Jake and of the victim. The victim's statement was so damning. I expected that Jake would downplay his bad behavior - and he did. I was equally expecting that she would exaggerate it. But everything she said rang true. He came on to her and said inappropriate things to her. Everything she described had him down to the letter. I had previously believed that he had just got caught up in the moment with her, but now I know for sure that he was actively pursuing her. He was planning it and following through . . . and he was enjoying it. As if he was living out his favorite wet dream.
But wait, there's more! He told the evaluator that he had an affair when he was 33. That would be the second year of our marriage, about the time Elise was one year old. If I needed something to solidify my resolve in divorcing him, that would do it! Sure, I knew he had gone to massage parlors and had internet sex with strangers, but he wouldn't have called any of those affairs. And I think I know who it was with, which makes it doubly hideous, but that's another long blog post for a different day . . .
As I reached the end of the report, I was absolutely sure that this marriage was over and that our kids needed to be removed from this situation. There was just one thing that made me sorry about this decision. It was a line in the evaluation summary: "Periodically sad, empty, and lonely, he is likely to have deep frustrated yearnings for social acceptance." That is the kind of thing that makes me want to stay and give him the love he obviously needs because he will never have that social acceptance.
But every bit of energy I spend taking care of Jake (who can't return that love and care properly) weakens me and lowers the chances that our kids will have a healthy childhood. Our kids need me - and deserve me - more than he does.
The water heater, the phone conversation, and the psycho sexual evaluation left me emotionally drained. I spent a good portion of that afternoon unable to function, holding on to a cup of tea, and just shivering. Thank goodness my mother was there. When I resurfaced from my emo-coma, we made plans to get away for the weekend and get away for good. It's going to take a few months, but the plans are solidifying and I am looking forward to it.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Sick Family, Sick Dog
After that phone call with Jake, I didn't talk to him for more than a week and intended that to last longer. Life went on. He called me a few times and I let it go to voicemail. I realized that I could request a "no contact" situation again, but I kinda liked that he knew that I was ignoring him. Immature? Sure, but I think I deserve to be the one in control for a while - visibly in control. Jake's parents came over a few times for supper. They brought the food. I never asked who cooked the food and they never said, but I'm sure we all know. If I didn't really need a break from cooking I would have complained.
Everything was going pretty well until Sabrina got sick. I took a day off work. Then I got sick and spent the whole weekend on the sofa plus took another day off work. Then Elise got sick and I took three days off work. Altogether I worked 25 hours in two weeks. Paying the bills is going to be tight this month
In the midst of all our own sickness, I noticed that our dog, Barkey, was not looking so good. I took him to the vet only to find out that he was suffering from complications due to cancer. The vet said there was really no treatment that would improve his situation and it was already quite advanced, so he recommended euthanasia. It was a tough week, trying to plan our dog's last moments. I had it planned so that I would take Barkey over to my in-law's house while the kids were at daycare so that Jake and I could both be with Barkey as he died. I truly believe that it's a blessing to be with someone as they die, so it was important to me to be there with Barkey. Unfortunately, that was the day Elise vomited at daycare, so I had to stay home with her. I gave Barkey a big hug and watched him ride off, never to come home again.
I let down my guard during the whole Barkey situation and talked to Jake in person a few times. We both cried and sobbed while making arrangements. He made a motion to hug me, but I snapped, "I don't want to hug you!" He really started crying then. I felt like a monster.
On Friday, I received a letter from Jake. It mostly reminisced about Barkey. He had added a drawing of a punch-tin design to replace a missing window in our china hutch. The design featured a pair of love birds. My letter back to him started with "I don't want love birds in the hutch. Do you understand how mad I am at you? There may be no coming back from this. " I didn't rant much more in the letter - not that I didn't want to, but I didn't have the energy.
I decided to throw an odd request into the letter. I asked him to give the names of all his victims to the court. He'll think it's a crazy idea and refuse to do it, I'm sure. I just explained that I couldn't support him or have any kind of relationship with him as long as I know that there are other victims out there who have yet to press charges. If he could sacrifice his future by giving up those names I know I would sleep better at night for the sake of those victims, but also because I would finally know that Jake CAN do the right thing instead of the selfish thing. But since I doubt that he'll ever do that . . .
I'm starting to plan my move. I wanted to move to the city my parents live in, but the housing costs are ridiculous. So now I'm researching the city that my brother lives in, just two hours' drive from my parents. I'm excited to live near my own family and be in a place where no one knows my husband. But I'm already mourning this house and this community and the lifestyle we live here.
Everything was going pretty well until Sabrina got sick. I took a day off work. Then I got sick and spent the whole weekend on the sofa plus took another day off work. Then Elise got sick and I took three days off work. Altogether I worked 25 hours in two weeks. Paying the bills is going to be tight this month
In the midst of all our own sickness, I noticed that our dog, Barkey, was not looking so good. I took him to the vet only to find out that he was suffering from complications due to cancer. The vet said there was really no treatment that would improve his situation and it was already quite advanced, so he recommended euthanasia. It was a tough week, trying to plan our dog's last moments. I had it planned so that I would take Barkey over to my in-law's house while the kids were at daycare so that Jake and I could both be with Barkey as he died. I truly believe that it's a blessing to be with someone as they die, so it was important to me to be there with Barkey. Unfortunately, that was the day Elise vomited at daycare, so I had to stay home with her. I gave Barkey a big hug and watched him ride off, never to come home again.
I let down my guard during the whole Barkey situation and talked to Jake in person a few times. We both cried and sobbed while making arrangements. He made a motion to hug me, but I snapped, "I don't want to hug you!" He really started crying then. I felt like a monster.
On Friday, I received a letter from Jake. It mostly reminisced about Barkey. He had added a drawing of a punch-tin design to replace a missing window in our china hutch. The design featured a pair of love birds. My letter back to him started with "I don't want love birds in the hutch. Do you understand how mad I am at you? There may be no coming back from this. " I didn't rant much more in the letter - not that I didn't want to, but I didn't have the energy.
I decided to throw an odd request into the letter. I asked him to give the names of all his victims to the court. He'll think it's a crazy idea and refuse to do it, I'm sure. I just explained that I couldn't support him or have any kind of relationship with him as long as I know that there are other victims out there who have yet to press charges. If he could sacrifice his future by giving up those names I know I would sleep better at night for the sake of those victims, but also because I would finally know that Jake CAN do the right thing instead of the selfish thing. But since I doubt that he'll ever do that . . .
I'm starting to plan my move. I wanted to move to the city my parents live in, but the housing costs are ridiculous. So now I'm researching the city that my brother lives in, just two hours' drive from my parents. I'm excited to live near my own family and be in a place where no one knows my husband. But I'm already mourning this house and this community and the lifestyle we live here.
Friday, March 9, 2012
February 16, 2011 (Part Two)
(This is the sequel to this post.)
I think it was two hours after he had called that a local police officer showed up at my door. I was glad that Elise had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of a movie, so she wouldn't ask me any questions. The officer asked to come in. Honoring Jake's agreement to cooperate, I let her in.
My mother-in-law had been driving by to check on me at that very moment, so she came in behind the officer.
Kay and I stood for a moment, expecting the officer to ask us questions, but she instructed us to sit on the sofa. She sat at my dining table in the next room. And we all just sat silently for over an hour with zero explanation. Kay would look at me periodically as if searching for an answer. I would just shrug and sniffle (I had been crying on and off all afternoon). Finally, I grew annoyed with the awkward silence and asked the officer what was going on.
She said, "I don't know. I was instructed to watch the computers and wait for more instructions." So we waited a little longer.
Suddenly, my yard was full of cop cars. I looked out the front door to see my husband signing some paperwork. I had enough presence of mind to move Elise to her bed before they all came in. When they entered, I hugged Jake and asked him what was going on. He said they just needed the computers. He had one personal laptop and a business laptop (the one he had been erasing).
It turns out that they didn't just want the computers. The paperwork he signed outside the door gave them permission to search his personal things. They took apart his office and bagged every storage device they could find. They also bagged a few playboy-type magazines (they really had to dig for those because I never knew he had any). This process took hours and it felt like our house was flooded with police. They even asked for permission to view my computer, which was in a different room and I agreed since I actually had nothing to hide.
Meanwhile, a social worker showed up. Let's call her Umbridge, shall we? She seemed nice enough at the time, but it was also midnight and I was in emotional shock. She took Jake to the kitchen to talk and the police chief sat with me on the sofa. She asked me a few questions, like if I knew what was going on. I related the little that Jake had told me about the situation. I really had very little to tell her. But while we were talking, I could hear what Jake was telling Umbridge. He was saying something about running his hand down the girl's front. That was the first moment I realized that I was being lied to by my own husband. That is really when the seed of my anger was planted.
The police chief left me then with Umbridge. She smiled and said sympathetic things that I wanted to believe, but I could tell she was just going through the motions. She basically asked the same questions as the chief and I repeated my words, but by this time I knew that I was just repeating the lies Jake had told me. I felt like a fool.
Umbridge asked me if my husband had ever been in trouble for anything like this before. It popped into my mind that he had told me that he had been investigated for improper behavior toward a student at the first school he taught at. He had reassured me that it was just rumors. After all, the investigation found nothing, not even a student to claim that he had acted inappropriately. (This is one of the many pieces of information I had in my life that I never put much stock in, but maybe if I had put all the pieces together . . .) I mentioned this to Umbridge and emphasized that they investigated to no end.
She asked, "Do you believe that he has done nothing wrong?" Her tone was clearly judgmental. I was speechless. I couldn't give her a straight answer.
I think I said, "I believed him earlier today. I'm not really sure what to think right now."
Umbridge explained to me that Jake would have to live somewhere else during the investigation. Amidst sobs, I asked her how long that would take. With a little pout that I suppose she thought was sympathetic looking, she said, "Oh, sometimes a few days, sometimes longer . . . " She also said she'd be back in the morning to talk to Elise. She had Jake and I sign an "action plan" agreeing to some basic conditions and then she left.
Almost immediately after she left, all hell broke loose. An officer found a book in Jake's office that apparently had pictures of nude children in it. For the record, I had never laid eyes on it until that night . . . but I knew about it. This is the point in the story where everyone freaks out and says, "You knew about this book!" and it starts all the shitty feelings all over again. So please, for my sanity hold yourself together for one more paragraph.
Jake got it in his head one day to buy rare books on eBay to resell on Amazon. This is one of many hare-brained schemes that I just rolled my eyes at and thought This will last ten seconds and be forgotten with the next project. Jake proceeded to find a rare book and he described it to me. I nodded with disinterest and went on with my life. I never heard about the book again. So in the moment that I heard the officer explaining to the investigator what was in the book, I recalled Jake's description of the rare book he planned to buy and resell: "a book from the 70's to teach children about their body." I knew it had to be the same book. I walked numbly to the office and looked upon the cover of the book. It was simply bound in black velvet with only the title on the front, "Show Me".
I just about puked when I saw it. Of course, I thought, of course this is child pornography. Why else would it be bound in black velvet? I should have been furious that he had bought such a thing and brought it in our house, but I was so horrified that I could feel no other emotion. I wondered to myself if he knew what it really was at the time he bought it. But I couldn't yet bring myself to think that way about him - not quite yet. Instead, my horror was slowly replaced with a feeling of guilt.
I said to the investigator, "I knew about the book." The whole world turned upside-down for a moment as the investigator turned on me. I tried to explain, but he just seemed to be yelling about how I had participated in buying child pornography. Finally, Jake convinced him that I had never looked at or really known what it was.
Jake had looked at it. He admitted to that. The investigator went crazy again. I remember standing there in my kitchen holding my precious 3-week-old baby, sobbing, while the investigator yelled, "We will take away your children! Neither of you will ever see them again!"
Suddenly, I straightened up and stopped crying. I had been passively listening to the investigator ask Jake the same questions over and over. He was grilling Jake, wheedling for confessions. I said something to Jake like,,"He's just trying to get you to say something damning. You should stop talking." To this day, I can't believe I said that, but part of me wishes I had said it long before the police entered my house and created the recurring nightmares I have about that night.
The investigator was mad at me. He said, "I'm just trying to help." Then he gathered everything and everyone up, including Jake, and they left.
It was 2am. I was left alone, watching through the window as the car lights faded away into the night. I just stood in the dark, silent house with my ears still ringing from the accusations of the investigator. I let out a few sobs, but then found that I was too tired to even cry. I went to the bedroom. Elise was asleep in her little bed, just opposite ours. I curled up next to her. I left the lamp on and lay there with my eyes open. I might have slept, but not much. I was scared that someone was coming to take the kids and I had to be ready . . . Ready to fight? Ready to run? I don't know, I was just holding on to them, like they were my only lifeline. It was a long night.
By the way, the book never showed up in the evidence against Jake. I was told that it really was a collectible book with the aim of teaching children about their bodies, but that it was edgy in an artistic way (it was the 70s, after all). Still, if you ever come across a book called "Show Me" in black velvet, walk away. Or better yet, throw it in the burn pile and take a picture for me. It represents too many horrors from that night.
I think it was two hours after he had called that a local police officer showed up at my door. I was glad that Elise had fallen asleep on the sofa in front of a movie, so she wouldn't ask me any questions. The officer asked to come in. Honoring Jake's agreement to cooperate, I let her in.
My mother-in-law had been driving by to check on me at that very moment, so she came in behind the officer.
Kay and I stood for a moment, expecting the officer to ask us questions, but she instructed us to sit on the sofa. She sat at my dining table in the next room. And we all just sat silently for over an hour with zero explanation. Kay would look at me periodically as if searching for an answer. I would just shrug and sniffle (I had been crying on and off all afternoon). Finally, I grew annoyed with the awkward silence and asked the officer what was going on.
She said, "I don't know. I was instructed to watch the computers and wait for more instructions." So we waited a little longer.
Suddenly, my yard was full of cop cars. I looked out the front door to see my husband signing some paperwork. I had enough presence of mind to move Elise to her bed before they all came in. When they entered, I hugged Jake and asked him what was going on. He said they just needed the computers. He had one personal laptop and a business laptop (the one he had been erasing).
It turns out that they didn't just want the computers. The paperwork he signed outside the door gave them permission to search his personal things. They took apart his office and bagged every storage device they could find. They also bagged a few playboy-type magazines (they really had to dig for those because I never knew he had any). This process took hours and it felt like our house was flooded with police. They even asked for permission to view my computer, which was in a different room and I agreed since I actually had nothing to hide.
Meanwhile, a social worker showed up. Let's call her Umbridge, shall we? She seemed nice enough at the time, but it was also midnight and I was in emotional shock. She took Jake to the kitchen to talk and the police chief sat with me on the sofa. She asked me a few questions, like if I knew what was going on. I related the little that Jake had told me about the situation. I really had very little to tell her. But while we were talking, I could hear what Jake was telling Umbridge. He was saying something about running his hand down the girl's front. That was the first moment I realized that I was being lied to by my own husband. That is really when the seed of my anger was planted.
The police chief left me then with Umbridge. She smiled and said sympathetic things that I wanted to believe, but I could tell she was just going through the motions. She basically asked the same questions as the chief and I repeated my words, but by this time I knew that I was just repeating the lies Jake had told me. I felt like a fool.
Umbridge asked me if my husband had ever been in trouble for anything like this before. It popped into my mind that he had told me that he had been investigated for improper behavior toward a student at the first school he taught at. He had reassured me that it was just rumors. After all, the investigation found nothing, not even a student to claim that he had acted inappropriately. (This is one of the many pieces of information I had in my life that I never put much stock in, but maybe if I had put all the pieces together . . .) I mentioned this to Umbridge and emphasized that they investigated to no end.
She asked, "Do you believe that he has done nothing wrong?" Her tone was clearly judgmental. I was speechless. I couldn't give her a straight answer.
I think I said, "I believed him earlier today. I'm not really sure what to think right now."
Umbridge explained to me that Jake would have to live somewhere else during the investigation. Amidst sobs, I asked her how long that would take. With a little pout that I suppose she thought was sympathetic looking, she said, "Oh, sometimes a few days, sometimes longer . . . " She also said she'd be back in the morning to talk to Elise. She had Jake and I sign an "action plan" agreeing to some basic conditions and then she left.
Almost immediately after she left, all hell broke loose. An officer found a book in Jake's office that apparently had pictures of nude children in it. For the record, I had never laid eyes on it until that night . . . but I knew about it. This is the point in the story where everyone freaks out and says, "You knew about this book!" and it starts all the shitty feelings all over again. So please, for my sanity hold yourself together for one more paragraph.
Jake got it in his head one day to buy rare books on eBay to resell on Amazon. This is one of many hare-brained schemes that I just rolled my eyes at and thought This will last ten seconds and be forgotten with the next project. Jake proceeded to find a rare book and he described it to me. I nodded with disinterest and went on with my life. I never heard about the book again. So in the moment that I heard the officer explaining to the investigator what was in the book, I recalled Jake's description of the rare book he planned to buy and resell: "a book from the 70's to teach children about their body." I knew it had to be the same book. I walked numbly to the office and looked upon the cover of the book. It was simply bound in black velvet with only the title on the front, "Show Me".
I just about puked when I saw it. Of course, I thought, of course this is child pornography. Why else would it be bound in black velvet? I should have been furious that he had bought such a thing and brought it in our house, but I was so horrified that I could feel no other emotion. I wondered to myself if he knew what it really was at the time he bought it. But I couldn't yet bring myself to think that way about him - not quite yet. Instead, my horror was slowly replaced with a feeling of guilt.
I said to the investigator, "I knew about the book." The whole world turned upside-down for a moment as the investigator turned on me. I tried to explain, but he just seemed to be yelling about how I had participated in buying child pornography. Finally, Jake convinced him that I had never looked at or really known what it was.
Jake had looked at it. He admitted to that. The investigator went crazy again. I remember standing there in my kitchen holding my precious 3-week-old baby, sobbing, while the investigator yelled, "We will take away your children! Neither of you will ever see them again!"
Suddenly, I straightened up and stopped crying. I had been passively listening to the investigator ask Jake the same questions over and over. He was grilling Jake, wheedling for confessions. I said something to Jake like,,"He's just trying to get you to say something damning. You should stop talking." To this day, I can't believe I said that, but part of me wishes I had said it long before the police entered my house and created the recurring nightmares I have about that night.
The investigator was mad at me. He said, "I'm just trying to help." Then he gathered everything and everyone up, including Jake, and they left.
It was 2am. I was left alone, watching through the window as the car lights faded away into the night. I just stood in the dark, silent house with my ears still ringing from the accusations of the investigator. I let out a few sobs, but then found that I was too tired to even cry. I went to the bedroom. Elise was asleep in her little bed, just opposite ours. I curled up next to her. I left the lamp on and lay there with my eyes open. I might have slept, but not much. I was scared that someone was coming to take the kids and I had to be ready . . . Ready to fight? Ready to run? I don't know, I was just holding on to them, like they were my only lifeline. It was a long night.
By the way, the book never showed up in the evidence against Jake. I was told that it really was a collectible book with the aim of teaching children about their bodies, but that it was edgy in an artistic way (it was the 70s, after all). Still, if you ever come across a book called "Show Me" in black velvet, walk away. Or better yet, throw it in the burn pile and take a picture for me. It represents too many horrors from that night.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
February 16, 2011 (Part One)
I remember quite clearly the moment my husband called to tell me that his boss, the principal at the high school, had sent him home because a student had reported him. Recalling that moment is so clear that I can feel the blood draining from my cheeks now just as it did on that day.
It was a lovely day in February. I was still running on a birth-high since I had Sabrina just three weeks earlier. Sabrina was so perfect, so calm and content. Elise, my first daughter, was happily playing. She was content, too. It was a good day until he called.
I had a visitor at that time. She worked with a local non-profit that provided developmental information for parents. I was enjoying her visit. But her presence made the situation so strange. I answered the phone, knowing from the caller ID that it was Jake. It was odd that he was calling in the middle of the school day. He said he was coming home and his voice sounded strained. I can't recall the exact words he said. He was babbling a little. His words were muffled, soggy. Was he crying?
I was just staring at my visitor while I was still on the phone. Normally, I'm a bit over-dramatic when things get stressful, but not that day. Some part of me that I had never met before said, Act normal, Evie, and send her away. This is not something you want to share with outsiders. This is something you protect and bury as fast as possible.
Before that moment, I thought I'd be the type of person who would turn my own mother into the police if she stepped out of line. I'm such a believer in rules. And yet, when the moment came, I instantly put up the shield of protection - at least for the moment.
I told Jake that we'd talk when he got home and hung up. With smiles and apologies, I sent the visitor away. I turned on the television to distract Elise from the serious conversation that I anticipated.
Jake arrived home with a red, tear-streaked face. I hugged him. I wanted so much to take away whatever bad situation had just occurred. I wanted to protect him. I know that seems ridiculous because he is the one who broke the law, the one who was in a position of responsibility - he was to be blamed, not pitied. And yet, he was the one I knew and the one I loved and he was in distress.
He was babbling still, through a runny nose and tears. He seemed so much like a confused child. I tried to listen to what he was saying. He said the girl had told him that she had a crush on him. She had tried to kiss him, but he had stopped her. He told her that he couldn't risk his family and career. She had gone to the principal to report him.
It was so hard to understand him. This was not the man I was used to. Jake usually took pride in being calm in any stressful situation. He never let his cool down. It would have been a relief to see him so sincerely emotional, except that it meant a whole world of hurt was coming down on him.
I told him to take a moment to calm himself and we would talk after. For just a minute, he sat at the dining table. Then he got up and went to his office, saying that he had to do some things. I was perplexed that there was anything he needed to do that would come to mind in such an awful situation. But then, stress always drives him to work hard and keep busy. I just comforted myself that he would come to me when he was ready.
I was worried, but it was easy to find things to distract myself with. For God's sake, I had a three-week-old baby and a two-year-old! The next thing I knew, Jake was sitting on the sofa with his business laptop in front of him and the television turned to one of his favorite channels. It was like it was any normal day of the week.
I sat down with him and asked what he was doing.
"Scrubbing the hard drives." That answer challenged my not-so-technical brain a little. I took a second look at the laptop. I noticed, as I looked closer, that it was hooked-up to a portable hard drive that he used as a back-up sometimes. I realized he was erasing it and that made me a little uncomfortable.
But then, I thought about how he liked to look at porn on the internet sometimes. He's just scared and trying to make himself look better in case the school investigates him, I thought. I felt a sense of relief as I convinced myself that he was overreacting. [Now I look back at this moment and think I'm an idiot. A very trusting, lovable idiot].
I said, "Don't you think that will make you look guilty?" He just shrugged.
As the day wore on, I convinced myself that this was all just a misunderstanding. A teenage girl had misplaced emotions for her teacher. The school Superintendent would see that, right? They would clear it all up and he would be back at work the next day.
Later, he had a meeting to go to. It was a community business development group that he had recently joined. He was unsure if he should go or not. I encouraged him to go, live life as normal. "Nothing is likely to happen tonight, right?" So he went.
It wasn't a half hour later that I received a call asking for Jake. The caller, a woman, didn't identify herself, so I was a little on guard. I told her to call back in a few hours. Ten minutes later she called again and identified herself as our Chief of Police. She said it was really important that she talk to him. I told her where he was and his cell phone number.
As luck would have it, Jake's cell phone had a technical issue where it would regularly shut itself off, so he never knew that the police were calling him. As he left the meeting, he called me and I told him to just drive to the police station. As I mentioned before, I am a rule follower. I was so good at "obeying" that fascist dictators would have loved me. I just had a lot of faith in the system and law enforcement. I still do to a degree, but I won't jump so quickly to cooperate anymore.
I didn't here from Jake for hours. I paced aimlessly around the house, holding Sabrina in my arms, trying to keep my mind busy. I called the police department a few times, but they would only tell me that he was there and nothing more. I called Kay, his mom, to see if she knew anything different, but she didn't. At one point, I was so anxious that I begged her to go to the police station, but she said that he didn't need his mother watching over him. In hindsight, she was right, he needed a lawyer to tell him to be quiet.
The police talked to him about the girl. He was open with them. He told them more about the incident than he told his wife. He admitted that he had been talking with her for a while (weeks, I think, but maybe longer). He admitted to friending her on Facebook. He even explained to them how he had run his hand down the front of her chest on the outside of her clothes when she had tried to kiss him (he conveniently left that part out when he told me). They had him write a letter of apology to the student. When I heard about the letter months later, I really wondered at the intelligence of this man - did he not see that this was just a ploy to get a written confession?! Maybe I have watched too many cop shows.
They asked him for permission to view his computers. He agreed and called to forewarn me that they were coming. Just thinking about what comes next raises my pulse and my temper . . . But that will be Part Two of the worst day of my life.
Friday, February 17, 2012
Dear Jake,
(written 2-16-2012)
Today marked a year since you were first arrested. I thought I would be angry and bitter, and I am, but I'm also very sad.
I was happy right after Sabrina was born. I thought you were, too. I thought we were starting to work out all our problems. I thought we were going to be okay.
Now it doesn't seem like anything will be okay. I feel like we're going to lose everything we were working for. I thought I could at least keep our home and a place in the community, but even those seem questionable now.
I miss the man I thought you were. I believe you could have been that man without all the hidden stuff, if you really wanted to be. You could have gotten help. You are smart enough to know that you were breaking the law and endangering your kids.
I know the chances are high that you will go to prison. I just hope that you will get treatment at some point and enter the world again as the man you should have been to begin with.
As much as I love and miss you, I can't forgive your lies and betrayals until you prove that you can live in a decent and honest way.
You might want to hold onto this letter because I don't plan to say these things again in the near future: you are loved and missed by more than just me.
Evie
P.S. Don't respond to this letter. I don't want your explanations and excuses.
I was happy right after Sabrina was born. I thought you were, too. I thought we were starting to work out all our problems. I thought we were going to be okay.
Now it doesn't seem like anything will be okay. I feel like we're going to lose everything we were working for. I thought I could at least keep our home and a place in the community, but even those seem questionable now.
I miss the man I thought you were. I believe you could have been that man without all the hidden stuff, if you really wanted to be. You could have gotten help. You are smart enough to know that you were breaking the law and endangering your kids.
I know the chances are high that you will go to prison. I just hope that you will get treatment at some point and enter the world again as the man you should have been to begin with.
As much as I love and miss you, I can't forgive your lies and betrayals until you prove that you can live in a decent and honest way.
You might want to hold onto this letter because I don't plan to say these things again in the near future: you are loved and missed by more than just me.
Evie
P.S. Don't respond to this letter. I don't want your explanations and excuses.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
The Dreaded V-day
Seven years ago today, I received flowers from a man that I had only talked to on the phone for a few weeks. It seemed like a good love, formed from a real friendship.
One year ago, that same man was enjoying a moment of sexual tension with one of his teenage students in his classroom. I was at home with our newborn baby and two year old child. I didn't mind that he didn't bring me any flowers or gifts. I was just content to have a kiss. He seemed restless that night. We both had some insomnia, during which he said to me, "A student told me that she has a crush on me."
"Hmm, well, just stay away from her, okay? Don't give her any ideas that you share her feelings." I had no clue what was really happening. I was purely worried that he would give the girl the wrong impression by being nice to her. Jake was the kind of teacher that teenagers liked and sometimes he seemed to forget he wasn't a teenager himself.
Someday I'll tell you about things that Jake had said to me that will make you wonder if I'm the world's biggest idiot. I had more than enough evidence in front of me to know that Jake had at least one inappropriate relationship with a student before I married him. And yet, the facts seemed fuzzy and the Jake I knew seemed so trustworthy that I honestly missed the boat completely. In hindsight it seems so silly to say that I didn't see this coming . . . but I didn't. I remember falling asleep that night feeling thankful to have my strong husband by my side. He was the husband who was so honest with his wife that he told her uncomfortable things, such as a student with a misplaced crush. I was truly happy that night.
Today turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I finished filling out Elise's first set of valentine cards for her friends at daycare as we hurried to get ready this morning. I made myself a double-sized mug of coffee because I missed some sleep last night. I bought some chocolate and ate it during my therapy appointment. I cried a little. I went back home and searched online for jobs to apply to (dismal pickings). Then I picked the girls up from daycare. I stopped at the florist, thinking it would be nice to treat ourselves to some flowers, but when I saw the prices I almost cried again. Elise was disappointed that we didn't get something, so it was lucky that the grocery store had mini roses and balloons on sale. I'm going to finish off my chocolates and go to bed. No more worrying about the man who ruined V-day.
One year ago, that same man was enjoying a moment of sexual tension with one of his teenage students in his classroom. I was at home with our newborn baby and two year old child. I didn't mind that he didn't bring me any flowers or gifts. I was just content to have a kiss. He seemed restless that night. We both had some insomnia, during which he said to me, "A student told me that she has a crush on me."
"Hmm, well, just stay away from her, okay? Don't give her any ideas that you share her feelings." I had no clue what was really happening. I was purely worried that he would give the girl the wrong impression by being nice to her. Jake was the kind of teacher that teenagers liked and sometimes he seemed to forget he wasn't a teenager himself.
Someday I'll tell you about things that Jake had said to me that will make you wonder if I'm the world's biggest idiot. I had more than enough evidence in front of me to know that Jake had at least one inappropriate relationship with a student before I married him. And yet, the facts seemed fuzzy and the Jake I knew seemed so trustworthy that I honestly missed the boat completely. In hindsight it seems so silly to say that I didn't see this coming . . . but I didn't. I remember falling asleep that night feeling thankful to have my strong husband by my side. He was the husband who was so honest with his wife that he told her uncomfortable things, such as a student with a misplaced crush. I was truly happy that night.
Today turned out to be easier than I thought it would be. I finished filling out Elise's first set of valentine cards for her friends at daycare as we hurried to get ready this morning. I made myself a double-sized mug of coffee because I missed some sleep last night. I bought some chocolate and ate it during my therapy appointment. I cried a little. I went back home and searched online for jobs to apply to (dismal pickings). Then I picked the girls up from daycare. I stopped at the florist, thinking it would be nice to treat ourselves to some flowers, but when I saw the prices I almost cried again. Elise was disappointed that we didn't get something, so it was lucky that the grocery store had mini roses and balloons on sale. I'm going to finish off my chocolates and go to bed. No more worrying about the man who ruined V-day.
Monday, February 13, 2012
The Advisement Hearing (and Aftermath)
Jake was advised of his rights and charges today in court. I attended it with his parents, Big Rev and Kay. It was very hard. First, it was two hours late in starting. Second, it was painfully obvious that this is not going to have a good ending for our family.
The judge gave Jake his rights (a lawyer, silence, yadda yadda). Then he read the charge: sexual assault on a minor. There were no details, like when or who, which we were hoping for. Then he allowed the district attorney to argue bail. She asked for a $500,000 bail based on factors that included his character and his concealment of this alleged crime during last year's court dealings (his previous charges). She also discussed some confusing things, such as a possible ethics violation because Jake didn't disclose this alleged crime to his previous lawyer. Really, much of what the DA talked about was confusing and, in my view, not relevant. I mean, really, is a person required to disclose previous crimes to their lawyer if they didn't hire the lawyer to deal with those crimes? Either I misunderstood or I'm horribly ignorant.
The part that made us all jump was when the DA said that the victim had received 17 death threats by phone since she reported Jake. Jake looked at us with this horrified, questioning expression. I threw up my hands to show that I knew nothing about it. The DA pointed out that they know from the jail phone records that Jake didn't make the threats, but she suggested that he asked someone else to do it. The mere suggestion that any of us might be blamed for the threats made us panic. But we all came to our senses enough to realize that phone records are easy for law enforcement to get, right? Hopefully this will be cleared up quickly.
Right after I wrote that, Kay called to let me know that an officer was on his way to my house. She said he just wanted Jake's cell phone and that he was very polite.
The officer arrived 10 minutes later. I opened the door and handed the phone out. He said he was investigating the death threats and wanted to ask me questions. I said that I'd prefer to talk only with my lawyer present, but I added that I didn't make them and I didn't ask anyone else to make them.
He asked me if I have the victim's phone number. That was an interesting question because I have a guess who reported Jake and, if I'm guessing right, I do have her number. But they didn't say the victim's name in court, so I don't know for sure. It would be a simple thing to say, "Is this the number you mean?" Only, I can't do that for the following reasons:
Anyhow, when he asked me if I had her number, I said, "They didn't say the name of the victim in court, so I don't know if I have her number. Can you tell me her name?"
"No ma'am."
"Then I can't tell you if I have her number." Dead end road.
He then asked if I could think of anyone who might make death threats. He suggested that it might be someone who just wants to help Jake, but is going about it the wrong way. I had this sudden thought that it might be another one of his former students, maybe someone who idolized him. I was really thankful in that moment that I didn't know any of his students. What if it is some young person thinking that this is on the same level as a prank phone call? Will they be dressed in orange, waiting in front of the judge to hear their charges soon? God, that would be so sad. I don't want to think of any other lives being ruined because of Jake's actions.
Finally, the officer left with my promise that my lawyer would call him tomorrow.
I called Big Rev and Kay to reassure them about the visit. I repeated to Big Rev that the officer had said that they were unsure which county would lead the investigation into the death threats. Big Rev mentioned that the woman we think made the accusations - the one whose phone number I have - was his student when he taught in a neighboring county. I told him that couldn't be right because the charges were brought in our county and they only press charges in the county where the crime occurred. By the end of our conversation, we lost our conviction that we knew who the accuser is. On one hand, it sucks because we don't want to find out that he has any other victims. On the other hand, I'd be so relieved to find out that the accuser is not the woman I've talked to simply because I want to stay out of the drama. Again, selfish selfish selfish.
It hurt Big Rev that I suggested that this was yet another woman. I probably came off as callous to him. But really, I have come to accept the likelihood that Jake has more victims then he has admitted. It just isn't going to surprise me if they start lining up to accuse him.
The judge gave Jake his rights (a lawyer, silence, yadda yadda). Then he read the charge: sexual assault on a minor. There were no details, like when or who, which we were hoping for. Then he allowed the district attorney to argue bail. She asked for a $500,000 bail based on factors that included his character and his concealment of this alleged crime during last year's court dealings (his previous charges). She also discussed some confusing things, such as a possible ethics violation because Jake didn't disclose this alleged crime to his previous lawyer. Really, much of what the DA talked about was confusing and, in my view, not relevant. I mean, really, is a person required to disclose previous crimes to their lawyer if they didn't hire the lawyer to deal with those crimes? Either I misunderstood or I'm horribly ignorant.
The part that made us all jump was when the DA said that the victim had received 17 death threats by phone since she reported Jake. Jake looked at us with this horrified, questioning expression. I threw up my hands to show that I knew nothing about it. The DA pointed out that they know from the jail phone records that Jake didn't make the threats, but she suggested that he asked someone else to do it. The mere suggestion that any of us might be blamed for the threats made us panic. But we all came to our senses enough to realize that phone records are easy for law enforcement to get, right? Hopefully this will be cleared up quickly.
Right after I wrote that, Kay called to let me know that an officer was on his way to my house. She said he just wanted Jake's cell phone and that he was very polite.
The officer arrived 10 minutes later. I opened the door and handed the phone out. He said he was investigating the death threats and wanted to ask me questions. I said that I'd prefer to talk only with my lawyer present, but I added that I didn't make them and I didn't ask anyone else to make them.
He asked me if I have the victim's phone number. That was an interesting question because I have a guess who reported Jake and, if I'm guessing right, I do have her number. But they didn't say the victim's name in court, so I don't know for sure. It would be a simple thing to say, "Is this the number you mean?" Only, I can't do that for the following reasons:
- She asked me not to ever mention her to the police.
- I have reasons to doubt her honesty.
- I don't want to add fuel to the fire.
- I don't want to be on a suspect list for death threats.
- She is an adult and doesn't need my help to talk to the police.
Anyhow, when he asked me if I had her number, I said, "They didn't say the name of the victim in court, so I don't know if I have her number. Can you tell me her name?"
"No ma'am."
"Then I can't tell you if I have her number." Dead end road.
He then asked if I could think of anyone who might make death threats. He suggested that it might be someone who just wants to help Jake, but is going about it the wrong way. I had this sudden thought that it might be another one of his former students, maybe someone who idolized him. I was really thankful in that moment that I didn't know any of his students. What if it is some young person thinking that this is on the same level as a prank phone call? Will they be dressed in orange, waiting in front of the judge to hear their charges soon? God, that would be so sad. I don't want to think of any other lives being ruined because of Jake's actions.
Finally, the officer left with my promise that my lawyer would call him tomorrow.
I called Big Rev and Kay to reassure them about the visit. I repeated to Big Rev that the officer had said that they were unsure which county would lead the investigation into the death threats. Big Rev mentioned that the woman we think made the accusations - the one whose phone number I have - was his student when he taught in a neighboring county. I told him that couldn't be right because the charges were brought in our county and they only press charges in the county where the crime occurred. By the end of our conversation, we lost our conviction that we knew who the accuser is. On one hand, it sucks because we don't want to find out that he has any other victims. On the other hand, I'd be so relieved to find out that the accuser is not the woman I've talked to simply because I want to stay out of the drama. Again, selfish selfish selfish.
It hurt Big Rev that I suggested that this was yet another woman. I probably came off as callous to him. But really, I have come to accept the likelihood that Jake has more victims then he has admitted. It just isn't going to surprise me if they start lining up to accuse him.
Haunted
Sometime today, there will be an advisement on the charges for Jake's most recent arrest. At the moment, we have no idea what he was arrested for.
I sit here at the computer in the mornings with Sabrina on my lap, trying to wake her up a little. I can't take a shower until she is awake enough to sit on the bathroom floor and play. Such is the life of a single mom. (By the way, any moms who have steady partners that don't help them do things, like take a shower. That's a red flag. Just remember, you hold the baby every time he showers, right?)
So while I gently wake my baby, I go through emails and catch up on stuff. Well, this morning I was going through old gardening pictures. I came across some family pictures I scanned for Jake's parents two Christmas's ago. And there was Clyde. Clyde was the farm hand that molested and sexually abused Jake and his sisters. I had three pictures of him being goofy with bananas and a lamp shade. (Another red flag. When a grown person makes a fool of themselves to win over your children, be damned sure you are always aware of when they are with your children and what they are doing.)
I thought I had actually deleted those pictures long ago because Jake told me that Clyde had possibly hurt his oldest sister (I don't know if he just didn't remember his own abuse at that time or he just didn't want to tell me). But there were the pictures of Clyde smiling at me.
"This is your fault," I said, thoroughly knowing that I was talking to a computer screen. I deleted the pictures. No one needs Clyde in their lives.
Really, I can't blame Clyde for everything. He molested all of Jake's siblings, and yet Jake is the only one to follow in his footsteps. Jake has made his own choices. I just wish the cycle of sexual sickness would end. How many of Jake's victims are continuing in his footsteps?
Better question: How many victims does Jake have? We might find out today.
I sit here at the computer in the mornings with Sabrina on my lap, trying to wake her up a little. I can't take a shower until she is awake enough to sit on the bathroom floor and play. Such is the life of a single mom. (By the way, any moms who have steady partners that don't help them do things, like take a shower. That's a red flag. Just remember, you hold the baby every time he showers, right?)
So while I gently wake my baby, I go through emails and catch up on stuff. Well, this morning I was going through old gardening pictures. I came across some family pictures I scanned for Jake's parents two Christmas's ago. And there was Clyde. Clyde was the farm hand that molested and sexually abused Jake and his sisters. I had three pictures of him being goofy with bananas and a lamp shade. (Another red flag. When a grown person makes a fool of themselves to win over your children, be damned sure you are always aware of when they are with your children and what they are doing.)
I thought I had actually deleted those pictures long ago because Jake told me that Clyde had possibly hurt his oldest sister (I don't know if he just didn't remember his own abuse at that time or he just didn't want to tell me). But there were the pictures of Clyde smiling at me.
"This is your fault," I said, thoroughly knowing that I was talking to a computer screen. I deleted the pictures. No one needs Clyde in their lives.
Really, I can't blame Clyde for everything. He molested all of Jake's siblings, and yet Jake is the only one to follow in his footsteps. Jake has made his own choices. I just wish the cycle of sexual sickness would end. How many of Jake's victims are continuing in his footsteps?
Better question: How many victims does Jake have? We might find out today.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Jake was arrested.
I have nothing more to say right now. I just want to survive the weekend without falling to pieces.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Sex Addicts 101
Let's be clear about a few things. Not all sex addicts become sex offenders. And not all sex offenders are sex addicts. But sex addicts run a high risk of becoming sex offenders.
We all start out as blank slates, sexually speaking. As prepubescent children, we are supposed to learn about healthy body image, body care, boundaries, and gender roles. Actual sex should not be on the agenda of a small child, but finding one's physical place in the world is an essential foundation for a healthy sexuality. They should learn to respect themselves, respect others, and expect respect in return. (A great resource on developing healthy sexuality in children is The Discipline Book by Dr. William Sears)
I don't know the statistic, but I believe that most sex addicts are sexually abused as children, or in some way led astray. This can include molestation or rape by an adult or older child. Other types of exposure can also have an impact, such as witnessing adults engaged in sexual acts, seeing porn, or engaging in sexual acts with other kids. Even more subtle things can start a problem, such as low self-esteem and excessive boredom, if a child turns to masturbation as a comfort or "hobby". All these things affect how a child forms a view of sex and what role it will play in that child's life.
In Out of the Shadows by Dr. Patrick Carnes, he describes the sex addict as constantly seeking that thrill that we all feel with "young love". You know, that tingling excitement that you felt when you held your boyfriend's hand for the first time. Or that intoxicating pleasure that washed over you when your partner first undressed you. Those are the feelings that a sex addict wants to experience over and over. Who wouldn't want to relive those moments? But an addict loses sense of control and boundaries and even reality as they chase those moments. Carnes calls it "courtship gone awry".
Carnes also refers to the "arousal template" that each of us has - the map in our brain that dictates what arouses each one of us. Again, this template is created when we are children. An abusive situation can imprint on that template forever. Recreating those moments as an adult brings back the courtship thrill, even if it is very misled.
The addiction works through cycles. The addict can live a normal life for periods of time, but then something triggers their need to act out sexually - stress, boredom, a flash of cleavage, a computer rebooting, a red balloon - who knows, it is different for everyone. They go through whatever ritual that precedes the act, they act, then they swim through the moat of guilt and despair and promises to never do it again. Then they start the cycle over.
The cycle can hold steady forever, but it is more likely that it will accumulate new sexual acts. After all, the thrill has to be maintained. And that is why sex addicts become sex offenders. They keep trying new things, keep branching out, the lines keep blurring until they are knowingly committing illegal acts. They are so immersed in their own world of sexual need that they risk everything valuable they have for a momentary thrill.
Addicts know they are doing things the wrong way. But they feel a loss of control, so they hide it. And they start to lie. They get really good at telling lies, so good they even start believing them. They create two selves: the one addicted and the outward persona. The outward persona may be righteous, caring, charismatic, moral - the embodiment of everything that the addict thinks is good (that the addict really wants to be). It would deeply hurt an addict's feelings if someone doubted any of those outward characteristics.
Here are two beliefs that the addict has about their true selves:
1) I am unworthy of love.
2) My greatest need is sex.
For an addict to heal and live a healthy life, he needs to change those beliefs. He needs to believe in his own value and see that others can love him. He needs to learn to trust and depend on others. He needs to face reality (possibly the hardest part). He needs to take accountability for his actions and learn to derail that old addiction cycle. He needs recognize the victims he's created. He needs God - yes, I really did say that. He needs a power greater than the addiction.
Oh, and he needs community.
It's not really about sex, you see. It's about a warped sense of reality. And it's about a victim who never healed. And it is about awareness and attitude in everyone around the addict. It is big and complicated. And I have barely even touched on the subject.
We all start out as blank slates, sexually speaking. As prepubescent children, we are supposed to learn about healthy body image, body care, boundaries, and gender roles. Actual sex should not be on the agenda of a small child, but finding one's physical place in the world is an essential foundation for a healthy sexuality. They should learn to respect themselves, respect others, and expect respect in return. (A great resource on developing healthy sexuality in children is The Discipline Book by Dr. William Sears)
I don't know the statistic, but I believe that most sex addicts are sexually abused as children, or in some way led astray. This can include molestation or rape by an adult or older child. Other types of exposure can also have an impact, such as witnessing adults engaged in sexual acts, seeing porn, or engaging in sexual acts with other kids. Even more subtle things can start a problem, such as low self-esteem and excessive boredom, if a child turns to masturbation as a comfort or "hobby". All these things affect how a child forms a view of sex and what role it will play in that child's life.
In Out of the Shadows by Dr. Patrick Carnes, he describes the sex addict as constantly seeking that thrill that we all feel with "young love". You know, that tingling excitement that you felt when you held your boyfriend's hand for the first time. Or that intoxicating pleasure that washed over you when your partner first undressed you. Those are the feelings that a sex addict wants to experience over and over. Who wouldn't want to relive those moments? But an addict loses sense of control and boundaries and even reality as they chase those moments. Carnes calls it "courtship gone awry".
Carnes also refers to the "arousal template" that each of us has - the map in our brain that dictates what arouses each one of us. Again, this template is created when we are children. An abusive situation can imprint on that template forever. Recreating those moments as an adult brings back the courtship thrill, even if it is very misled.
The addiction works through cycles. The addict can live a normal life for periods of time, but then something triggers their need to act out sexually - stress, boredom, a flash of cleavage, a computer rebooting, a red balloon - who knows, it is different for everyone. They go through whatever ritual that precedes the act, they act, then they swim through the moat of guilt and despair and promises to never do it again. Then they start the cycle over.
The cycle can hold steady forever, but it is more likely that it will accumulate new sexual acts. After all, the thrill has to be maintained. And that is why sex addicts become sex offenders. They keep trying new things, keep branching out, the lines keep blurring until they are knowingly committing illegal acts. They are so immersed in their own world of sexual need that they risk everything valuable they have for a momentary thrill.
Addicts know they are doing things the wrong way. But they feel a loss of control, so they hide it. And they start to lie. They get really good at telling lies, so good they even start believing them. They create two selves: the one addicted and the outward persona. The outward persona may be righteous, caring, charismatic, moral - the embodiment of everything that the addict thinks is good (that the addict really wants to be). It would deeply hurt an addict's feelings if someone doubted any of those outward characteristics.
Here are two beliefs that the addict has about their true selves:
1) I am unworthy of love.
2) My greatest need is sex.
For an addict to heal and live a healthy life, he needs to change those beliefs. He needs to believe in his own value and see that others can love him. He needs to learn to trust and depend on others. He needs to face reality (possibly the hardest part). He needs to take accountability for his actions and learn to derail that old addiction cycle. He needs recognize the victims he's created. He needs God - yes, I really did say that. He needs a power greater than the addiction.
Oh, and he needs community.
It's not really about sex, you see. It's about a warped sense of reality. And it's about a victim who never healed. And it is about awareness and attitude in everyone around the addict. It is big and complicated. And I have barely even touched on the subject.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
All About Him
The following things I have learned directly from my husband, Jake, through my experiences as his wife, through my own personal research (i.e. snooping), or in open court. I will not put anything here that has been told to me by Jake's treatment provider or lawyer.
And I now feel like I am selling him out to a world of strangers who will condemn him all over again. That is not my agenda, so tomorrow I will give you a balancing perspective from the part of me that loves him, that sees value in his character, that still has a lingering hope that he can reform.
- He is a sex addict. His main addiction is porn.
- He has visited prostitutes, massage parlors, and bath houses during our marriage.
- He used online social networks to seek out affairs and had sex online with at least two women during our marriage, but likely more than that
- He had an inappropriate relationship with a student before we were married, but I don't know the nature of it or what lines were crossed. No charges have been brought on this, but the authorities know and, since Colorado has no statute of limitations on sex crimes, he will have that hanging over his head forever.
- The act that caused him to be arrested was the inappropriate touching of a student's breast and torso on the outside of her clothing. This followed a month-long flirtation between the two of them.
- After being arrested, a search of his computers uncovered child pornography.
And I now feel like I am selling him out to a world of strangers who will condemn him all over again. That is not my agenda, so tomorrow I will give you a balancing perspective from the part of me that loves him, that sees value in his character, that still has a lingering hope that he can reform.
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