Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (49 page)

After my two-day party, I was tired and feeling like my hangover was going to last for the next ten years. Cherie and I packed up the next day and began the drive to Quincy, CA, and it felt like it took forever. She had a meltdown on the way there, talking about her family history and how badly she hated the drive. Like myself, she had severe anxiety. I had to convince her to take her medication, which didn’t do a very good job at calming her down. We arrived in Quincy when it was dark. The cousin that would be going to Texas with me was the most conservative. There were three cousins, and they were triplets - two girls and a boy. The other girl that I had always gotten along with asked if I wanted to go into town. There was a pool hall that they went to on occasion. I went with the two sisters, got drunk (again), and by the time we got back to the house that night, I was starting to feel like a sore throat was coming on. When I woke up on the couch the next morning, I was so sick I could hardly talk. Ashley ended up having to take me to the local emergency room before we could leave the next day because I was painfully ill. The doctor gave me a strong prescription of antibiotics, and the next day we were on the road.

I spent most of the drive to Texas sleeping. I was carsick and tired from the medication, and this my second big move in less than a year. I was overwhelmed. My self-destruction was only a temporary fix, and eventually I would be forced to face reality. Whether it would be good or bad, I would soon find out.

When we made that long and familiar drive across the country, everything was going smoothly until we were about twenty minutes away from my in-law’s house where I would be reunited with my husband and daughter. We were pulled over. I was afraid and almost shaking. I was worried that if they ran my name, they would know that I was still on Probation. With my luck, I was probably going to go to jail that night. Luckily, the officer told Ashley that her headlight was out and let her go. About ten minutes later, the same thing happened all over again. This time, despite Ashley telling the officer that we had just been pulled over, this time around he was acting suspicious and shining his flashlight in the car. I surrendered to the fact that I was going to jail. Luckily, he let us go again.

We finally made it to our final destination was. We pulled into the driveway and I called Derrick on my cell phone to ask him to come out to help me bring my things in. He was wearing an ugly yellow sleeveless shirt, and I was surprised at how quickly he gained his weight back. He had probably been binging on junk food in an attempt to make up for all of the junk food moments he had lost in jail.

I walked up to him thinking that he would immediately hug me and be excited to see me. He awkwardly stood there. Out of irritation, I walked toward the front door carrying one of my bags. “Don’t I get a hug?” he asked in his typical, cocky manner. He was back to himself. Jail definitely hadn’t scared him straight for very long. I hugged him quickly and we walked in together. On the way to Texas, I knew that I should feel bad for the way I had been acting the last few days, but I just didn’t. I was still angry with Derrick. I wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to make that feeling go away. If it wasn’t for my fear of being alone, and the fact that Danielle was waiting for me, I probably would have never even considered moving to Texas with him. Both of Derrick's parents hugged Ashley and then me, and his mom told me that she was so happy that I was finally there to stay. Since it was late, Danielle was already sleeping. She was sleeping in a toddler bed in the bedroom downstairs which was once an office. I walked in and rubbed her head as she slept, not wanting to wake her because she looked comfortable. Derrick's mom insisted that it was okay to wake her up. When she finally stirred and opened her eyes, I thought she might cry because she didn’t remember me. She sat up and once she was aware that I was in front of her, she smiled, "mommy!" I was so happy that she knew exactly who I was. I picked her up and held her until she became tired a few minutes later and was ready to go back to sleep. This reaffirmed to me that I was definitely supposed to be there. 

I settled in, and within a few weeks, I told Derrick that I wanted Danielle's room to be upstairs next to ours. It only made sense. We went to the local mall got all new bedding and wall decals. Her whole bedroom was themed Tinkerbelle. When I finally had it together, she was very excited to have her own bedroom. I took plenty of selfies with my baby and posted them online for my family to see.

The first month of being in Texas went well. I don't know if it was because I was so happy to be with my daughter or if it was just the general excitement of living in a whole new place. Things started to go downhill very quickly after I put Danielle down for a nap one day while Derrick was working. Derrick had found a job that paid decent wages, but he was constantly out of town. He pretty much left me to fend for myself. I was in the kitchen making a sandwich. "Hon, Derrick's father and I were talking, and we think it would be best to just leave the custody how it is. We don't think it would be a good idea to go back to Court because it might stir up some unnecessary precautions." "Oh, you mean like, for good?" "Yeah, we're just probably going to leave it how it is." I thought that this woman was out of her mind. I quickly began to doubt every promise that she ever made to me when I was sitting in jail. After I ate my sandwich, I went out to the patio to smoke a cigarette. I called Derrick. "So your mom just told me that she and your dad are never going to give custody back?" I told him, with obvious worry in my voice. "Is this the first that you've heard of this?" I asked. "Yeah. They haven't said anything to me like that. Trust me, that ain't gonna fly." Before we hung up, he reassured me that he was going to address this idea when he got home. He came home later that week. I was upstairs watching TV after dinner when he came up to tell me that he had spoken to both his parents. "I told them that keeping custody of Danielle was not going to work for us. My dad said that they just meant that they were going to keep custody until we completely had our shit together, which is understandable." he said. I had my doubts over the sincerity of what he'd been told. I tried to make it as clear as I could that I would not stay if there were not any hope of us getting our daughter back.

After a few months, I began to notice that my panic attacks were coming back. After having a few short-term boyfriends in Grass Valley, I was more aware of Derrick and the relationship that we had built. He was rough. He was rough with everything and the way he handled everything. Even when he hugged me or playfully wrestle around with me, it always hurt. I tried to tell him this but it only made him mad. He was starting to leave for work out of town more and more. When his mother asked me to ride along with her to the store, I would dreadfully try to get out of it knowing that I would only have a full-blown panic attack. My depression was coming back worse than it ever had. I thought that when I finally got to Texas, off of Probation and back with my daughter, things would be okay I thought that my life would really begin and my anxiety and depression would have no reason to ruin my daily existence. In the back of my mind, I thought that once I got to Texas and away from the System, the change would somehow erase everything that I had been through. I would no longer be suffering from the loss of my daughters, and I could fully begin to live as a normal person. For as long as I chose to be with Derrick, I would be reminded every day of everything that I didn't have. You can take the devil out of hell, but you can't take the hell out of the devil.

I knew that I needed to get back on my medication if I were going to be able to function. We hardly had any money saved and Derrick’s mom was helping us each month with rent and utilities to keep the upstairs cool. I knew that the drama was going to start when I woke up early one morning, dripping sweat. I walked toward the thermostat to turn the air conditioning on. There was a written note taped to it.

DON'T TURN PAST 74!

DAVE

I sarcastically laughed to myself. This was a joke. The handwriting was clearly a woman's handwriting. I thought it was pathetic that she had to hide behind her husband every time she wanted something her way. I also thought it was extremely inconsiderate of her to tell me what temperature to live in. She didn't know how hot it got upstairs. This was a clear sign to me that she was beginning to dislike the fact that she was now living with another woman who would be competing for Danielle's love and would have more influence over her son than she would. I certainly wasn't trying to be competitive. I went there for one reason and that was to be the mother of my child. I thought that his mother would respect this, and I was delusional for thinking that.

Within just a few months, it became obvious to me that everything that Derrick's mom had ever promised was a complete lie. The only reason she wanted me to go there so badly was because she knew that her son loved me and would be unhappy if I weren't there and possibly end up leaving. I began to subconsciously detach from Danielle when I knew that the chances of getting her back into my custody for good were probably not going to happen. I could hardly stand to be there anymore. I knew that both of Derrick's parents had zero respect for me, and it was probably from the mistakes that I had made in the past. Derrick was hardly there anymore, and I was lucky if he was home on weekends. After realizing that Yoga, Valerian Root and St. John's Wort were not going to fix my depression and anxiety, I finally found a doctor who would see me for a reasonable price. He prescribed the medication I needed, and I started to feel better within about a week. I also began to realize that the method in which Derrick’s mother was parenting my daughter went entirely against my personal beliefs as a parent. I knew I had failed miserably as a mother. But I still also knew that there were certain things that were just not okay. I could easily put myself in the shoes of my little girl. When her grandmother was viciously spanking her just because she was crying when Ashley and I told her that she couldn't help us move a couch up the stairs, my heart broke. I could hardly contain myself.

My daughter was only two years old at the time. Apparently the entire family thought that spanking was the solution to a child’s poor behavior. At first, I brought it up carefully. I emailed Derrick’s mother an article that had clear evidence that spanking did more harm than good. She didn't respond. I begged Derrick to do something about it. Not only did I know that it just wasn't the right way to do things, but I couldn't handle the fact that this was happening before my own eyes, and no matter what I said, it wasn’t going to stop. Suddenly, Ashley took it upon herself to spank Danielle also. I felt as if this family were ganging up on her. She was just a little girl, and because of her age, she was curious and obviously going to be getting into things. I thought that it was more of the responsibility of the adults to keep certain things out of her sight and reach. There was a day after lunch when Ashley left her open soda can on the couch. Danielle toddled up to it, picked it up and dumped the whole thing onto the carpet. I expected it to happen. Ashley walked up to Danielle and spanked her. I intervened and picked her up and walked away.

I put her down for a nap and went outside to call my mom. Mid conversation, Wanda walked out onto the patio, reaching her hand out. "Give me your phone, now." I stood up and laughed. "Are you serious?" She walked up to me and tried to snatch it out of my hand, and I wouldn't let go. It fell and shattered on the cement. This woman was treating me as if I were twelve years old. Apparently she also thought I didn't clean up after everybody enough. I always cleaned up after myself, and I thought that if everyone did the same, there wouldn't be any issues. There were little things that caused big conflict. When Derrick came home that night, I talked to him and told him that I couldn't handle it anymore. I told him what was going on, and he stormed inside to the living room where his parents were. "Look, if you're going to just treat her like she's a kid, we might as well pack up and go back to Tahoe. What's the point of being here if you're not going to let us parent our daughter." His father was more reasonable than his mother. Somehow, the conflict was talked out, but I knew it was definitely not the end of it. That night when we were laying in bed, I gave Derrick an ultimatum. “If you don’t get us out of here and into our own apartment with our daughter, I don’t know how much longer I will be able to last. I can’t see her being treated the way she is treated and it’s literally breaking my heart,” I cried. “Spanking isn’t as bad as you think it is, Elizabeth. You’re just going to have to deal with it. And I don’t know how long we’ll be here. It might be a couple years.” “A couple of years?” I said in shock. A year was the most I had thought we would be there. I couldn’t bare the possibility of staying any longer.

The next night I decided to go through the pictures that my dad was able to recover for me. I wanted to put what I could back into albums to keep the last memories of my daughters safe. There were a good many pictures left. I organized them into groups pertaining to which album they would go in. They were spread across the pool table in the game room that was adjoining our bedroom. I had them organized by the date they were taken. I looked down at these pictures vividly recalling the many precious moments that I shared with them. It hit me all over again - my babies were gone. I quietly cried wishing desperately to have just one more moment with them. I needed one more chance to say, “I’m sorry,” and one more chance to say, “I love you.” I then realized that this loss was going to hurt me deeply for many years to follow, if not for the remainder of my life. I tried to envision what it would be like to reunite with Chloe and Zoe when they became adults. I couldn’t see that ever being possible for as long as I chose to be with Derrick. I was afraid at the thought of them growing up and learning that I had spent this entire time with him. Every day that I was with this man was another day that I was disrespecting my daughters. I could never expect them to understand why I was with him if I couldn’t even understand it myself. That night I decided that I was going to look for a job the next day. I had no immediate plans, but whatever would eventually happen, and whenever it did happen, I knew that I must be prepared. I knew that one day God would answer my prayers and help me do the best thing. I didn’t know what that was, and I didn’t try to guess. I just had faith.

I was called to interview with the local grocery store that same week. I was hired full time to bag groceries, and I started right away. For some reason, I could tell that Derrick’s mother was irritated that I was going to be working. It could have been because Derrick was always gone and I needed a ride to work, and she would have to take me. Truly though, I think that she wanted me to sit home all day bored and miserable like she was. She didn’t want anything good for me. It would defy her assumptions of me.

On my first day of work, I went out back to the patio and called my dad. We had resolved our prior conflict when I failed to see him before leaving and I apologized sincerely. “Have you watched the news lately?” he asked. “No, not today, anyway,” I replied. “Do you remember Jaycee Dugard and when she was kidnapped years ago and never found?” he asked. I was expecting to hear the worst - they had probably found skeletal remains or something. “Of course I remember,” I replied. Any kid who grew up in Tahoe after she went missing knew her. Even though most of us never met her, we all felt as if she were a friend and a part of us. “They found her,” my dad said. “Really?” I responded, still expecting the worst. “They found her alive!” my dad said, with excitement in his voice. I was in shock. I could hardly believe it. I almost didn’t know what to say. My dad reminded me that God is good, and he does answer prayers. Most of the time I didn’t know it, but I needed his reminders. I needed someone to always tell me that God was listening and would love and forgive me as long as I asked for it. With the painful eighteen-year long struggle that this young girl and now a woman endured, my own situation suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

The memories would always haunt me, and the pain would always hurt, but I learned again that day that there will always be hope. When it seems that life is hopeless, God will still be watching, listening, and protecting us. My belief that things happen for a reason became stronger than ever that night. Jaycee had a big purpose in life - larger than she probably even knew. As I followed the news of her case, I learned many things about myself that I hadn’t even thought of before. I learned about Stockholm syndrome. I was able to evaluate my relationship with Derrick, and suddenly I didn’t feel like such a sick and horrible person for being with him. All of the times that I blamed myself and felt bad about the situation that I was in were symptoms of the psychological effects of staying in an abusive relationship. I realized that all of the times I had come to his defense and became angry with people who tried to warn me, was actually normal for a person in my situation. I didn’t know much about Jaycee Dugard and what amazing life purpose she would surely fill, but I did know that I began lifting pounds and pounds of hate, anger, guilt and confusion from my shoulders. For this, I’ll forever see this woman as a personal hero.