Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (23 page)

I pulled into the dark parking lot of McDonald's.  It was pretty empty, and I was hoping that I wasn't about to be murdered.  I sat there for five minutes until I got a call on my cell phone.  Derrick was on the pay phone behind the building. I told him where I was, and about five seconds later I saw him walking toward my car. My adrenaline was pumping and my hands were shaking so bad I could hardly find the button to unlock the doors. He opened the passenger door and got in. We sat there for a moment just staring ahead, blankly. “I'm surprised I'm not in jail right now. Ha ha. I thought, for sure, that this was a setup,” he jokingly said. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that we are probably being watched, but I don't really care.”  I turned my car on and put it in reverse. “Where are we going?” he asked. “I don't know.” I said. “I just want to go on a drive.” I was secretly hoping that he was getting afraid that I was going to be the one doing the murdering.

After driving down the dark, empty highway and out into the forest where hardly anyone lived, I pulled over on the side of the road and put the car in park. I don't know what possessed me to drive to such an empty place that was unsafe for a girl alone with a possible psychopath, but I wanted to talk to him, and I wanted to be able to yell if I had to you. I, once again, stared ahead into the dark. He did the same. Finally, I couldn't handle the pressure of the anticipation. “So what happened Derrick? I need you to tell me the truth. I need you to be honest, because I cannot handle this and I just need an answer. Do you not understand the seriousness and the severity of what happened to my daughter? It's a big deal and I want to know who is responsible. If you are responsible, you need to just tell me and give me closure. If you know who is responsible, you also need to tell me.” He looked at me calmly and said, “Look Elizabeth, I don't know what happened. I went over every possible scenario in my mind, and I really just don't know what happened. I mean it could have been anything. What if it was one of her toys in the bath the other night? Could be the time she fell with that plastic castle in the tub.  I don't know - kids are weird.  What if she did it to herself?”

I snapped my head up at him. “You're kidding me, right? Do you not remember what I showed you? That was an injury that was inflicted by somebody else, and she could have died! You have no idea how horrible it was the whole time that I was at the hospital. You have no idea of the hell that she went through when she was put under anesthesia because she had to have surgery. I cannot believe that you have the nerve to say that it is her fault!” Tears were streaming down my face. I was so upset I couldn't handle it. I was clearly not going to get any answers from him. He started crying. “Elizabeth, I am telling you the truth. I don't know what happened! I'm sad too. I lost my family. You and the girls were my world!” He reached over and tried to hug me. I sat there stiff and resistant. Finally, he pretty much yanked me towards him. He was hugging me and I was still sitting there - not touching him or hugging him back. I was just crying. “You know what,” I said, “I can't handle this. I'm going to get a bottle right now.”

I started the car and drove to the store. I got a bottle of vodka. I was hoping that maybe if I got him drunk I could get him to talk. I also wanted to be drunk because I was so confused and miserable. We ended up going back to my house and getting wasted. The more I talked to him, the more I actually believed that he might not know what happened. I tried every type of psychology and reverse psychology that I could think of. I even got to the point where I told him it was okay if he did it, and I wouldn't tell, which was a huge, desperate lie. I was desperate for an answer. I didn't get one. Somehow, we ended up playing Yahtzee for the next two hours – wasted and playing Yahtzee.

Derrick was a very personable guy. He always had a way of making people laugh even if they did not want to. He had a great way of creeping into your mind and convincing you of whatever it was he wanted you to believe. I’m positive that he did the same thing with the detectives. Needless to say, it worked on me. On top of that, I was extremely vulnerable. I was vulnerable and alone and scared. I had no one except him. Derrick convinced me that if we were going to get through this, we had to stick together. He pretty much moved back in that night. From this point forward, I was brainwashed. It was so much easier to just believe him.

I went through the stages of grief, denial and bargaining for any small reason. How he could simply have
nothing
to do with the injury consumed my entire thought process around the clock for the next four years.

The first few days were pretty uncomfortable. I didn't want to be seen with him. No one would understand. He had me to the point where I was starting to feel bad for him. I don't know why, but I just did. He had me believing that he was also a victim. We stayed locked in my house getting drunk, making food, and playing Yahtzee for probably a week. I surrendered. I was like one of those abused dogs. I had been treated terribly by Derrick My daughter was tortured by who knows what or whom, but I still loved and obeyed my owner. It was all a blur - a drunken blur. The alcohol didn’t help my emotions either; I cried and cried and cried.

Then, one day, I just stopped crying. I had no tears left. I had cried enough for five lifetimes. Something about getting back together with Derrick hardened my soul. I was numb and emotionless. I was in total denial. I let myself believe Derrick and the detectives. Finally, I agreed with the detective when he called me once more for the last time. Any one who made excuses for Derrick or sided with him and his claim to be totally innocent further supported my state of denial. It was okay now. I had Derrick back, and soon enough the detectives would crack the case and arrest the real abuser. I was now safe to go out in public with Derrick if I wanted to.

A week after Derrick returned, I had several missed calls from Jesse. I avoided them hoping that he would just give up. Of course, Jesse came looking for me. He wanted to make sure I was alive, and he wanted to show me his brand new baby boy. I was in the kitchen making fondue for dinner, and I heard a knock on my glass patio door. I ignored it, hoping whoever it was would go away. I was pretty sure it was Jesse. I was afraid that if I answered the door, there would be a fight between Derrick and Jesse. I ignored the knocks for almost five minutes. I was surprised by his persistence. “Elizabeth! I know you’re in there. I see you right now. Open the door, I brought my son over to meet you!” I felt so bad when he said this. “Derrick, he is just a friend; don’t start any drama okay,” I quietly and firmly demanded as I went to open the door. He was with Jake and his baby was in the tiny car seat and looped over his arm. “Come in,” I hesitantly said. There was no hiding anything now, and there was no point in attempting to make excuses for my choice. I was surprised when Jesse swallowed his pride and probably also his rage, and extended his hand to Derrick to introduce himself. Derrick mumbled a few words and, of course, was annoyed and grinding his teeth. “Hey man,” Jessie looked over at Derrick. “Would you mind if I talked to Elizabeth upstairs for a minute? I just want to make sure everything is okay, and I came to show her my son too,” he confidently yet respectfully asked. “Sure dude, whatever works,” Derrick surrendered.

Jesse followed me up the stairs to my room. I didn’t want Derrick to hear anything that we might say. Derrick did not know that I had slept with Jesse. As soon as the door was closed, Jesse lifted his arms up in confusion, “Are you so in love with him, Elizabeth, that you can look past what he did? I am so confused. I don’t mean to come here and stress you out, but look what he put you through! He is dangerous! I had serious feelings for you, too. I backed off because I knew that you were already going through so much, but I didn’t think that my leaving you alone would lead to him coming back!” The look of confusion and sadness in his bright, beautiful eyes was extremely hard to take. I hugged him and said I was sorry. He brought the last few tears that I had left out of my eyes. “Elizabeth, I am not joking, and you can even ask Jake, but I seriously would have married you. That’s how much I love and care about you.” he said. “I love you too, Jesse. I really do. I just don’t know what is going on anymore. I don’t know if he even had anything to do with it now. The detectives are convinced he’s innocent,” I said, looking at the floor. Jesse continued, “I hope this is just a weird phase. Will you promise to call me if you ever need anything? I care about you, crazy girl.” I agreed, and quietly soaked my tears of regret and guilt with my sweater sleeve. “Do you want to hold my son before I take off?” “Of course! He is so tiny and adorable,” I replied.

He took the tiny blond baby out of his seat and handed him to me as I was sitting on the floor, cross-legged in defeat. He ran downstairs to tell Derrick and Jake that I was just holding the baby for a minute before they left. I heard Derrick mutter something that sounded strange, but I wasn’t sure what it was. After completely doting on this sweet, innocent little blond baby, Jesse came back up to get him ready to go. He had a look of shock and anger on his face. “Elizabeth!” he whispered. “Did you hear what that dude just said to me?” I shook my head no. “What did he say?” I asked. “When I told him you were holding the baby before I left, he was like, “You might want to go check on her and not leave your kid alone with her. She’s crazy!” I felt my face turn red with rage.

As Jesse was buckling his baby back into his seat, I stormed down the stairs, past Jake, and into the kitchen where Derrick was. “What the hell did you say about me? I am pretty sure you are in my house right now, and if you are going to act like a detective, I’ll treat you like one and ask you to leave!” I firmly and loudly said. I was happy to say this in front of the guys. I felt extremely disrespected, and I was furious about what he had said. I wondered if he truly thought that.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that we have a lot of bad shit going on right now and people probably don’t want to be involved unless they want their kids taken away too. Remember? The whole town thinks we are child abusers.” he said, almost laughing. I was too exhausted to fight any longer. I looked at Jesse and shrugged my shoulders.

Jesse saw the look in my eyes, and he knew I had given up on myself. That night was the last time I saw him. I’ve thought about him frequently over the years and have tried to find a way to contact him to apologize. I haven’t tracked you down yet, so Jesse, I hope this gets to you. I am truly sorry, and I regret that I didn’t listen to you because you really did care about me. I hated myself and I gave up. But you didn’t give up on me and was there for me on multiple occasions. Thank you, and I hope God is giving you all the happiness that life can offer. You always made me feel worthy, and I can never repay you for your kindness. I’ll never forget those few people who still cared when I was at my worst - and you were definitely one of them.

I visited my daughters once a week and each time it was less emotionally difficult. I hated the fact that I was being watched so instead of always interacting with them like I should have, I sometimes just sat there and watched the girls play. A recent CPS report that was submitted to the Court said, “The mother seems very detached and not interested in communicating with her children during the visits.” Basically, I couldn’t be sad and show emotion in front of the girls. The forced “no-crying” contract was still in effect. I was still being picked apart as a result of that contract. I had a fear of doing something wrong during the visits. I always told the girls that I loved them “so very much” before I left. Chloe was starting to potty train. During one of the visits she had to go to the restroom, but the CASA worker said she wasn’t “good with small kids” so she asked me to take her. Go figure. We had recently celebrated her third birthday at a pizza restaurant. My mom, grandparents, and older sister were there. The CASA worker supervised. We brought them lots of gifts. My little girl was three, and I had already missed out on so much. Her vocabulary was great. There was a light in her that faded on that day that I couldn’t take her home with me as she hurriedly put on her jacket. That was the day that her heart was broken. She wasn’t temporarily with a babysitter or at daycare - she was being forced to be away from me. They eventually stopped crying. There was a brick wall between us – forced by many different entities: Social Services, the Court, Derrick and even my own numb soul.

I still had this idea that I would get them back. The Detectives just needed to hurry up and solve the case. On one of the visits, about two months after everything happened, the CASA worker looked at me and asked “Elizabeth, I hear your pregnant again?” “What? No, I am not!” I sternly said. What a bitch. Where did that even come from? I was pretty positive that I was not pregnant. Were they analyzing the urine samples I gave when I had drug tests?

I started to think a little more about her statement as the day went on. I finally admitted to myself that it was possible. I had turned into this drunken idiot that gave Derrick what he wanted when he wanted it. I no longer cared about myself. I didn’t deserve to care about myself. I didn’t deserve self-esteem. I was a pathetic mother. What my daughter had lost was far greater than self-esteem. I wanted to feel her pain and what she had suffered times a million because I deserved it. I was destined to fail in everything else I would do from that point on. I was worthless. The only thing I was good for was being Derrick’s bitch. He would remind me of this in subliminal ways. He would jokingly say demands like “Bitch, make me food,” or  “Bitch, you know you can’t live without me.” My new name was Bitch. I was the worthless kind.

I got home after my visit to Derrick lounging on the couch as usual. He had started smoking in the house. He reached up and handed me a thick pile of papers. It was a notice from the landlord to pay or move out. I couldn’t pay rent; I didn’t have any money and honestly I didn’t care. Derrick wasn’t helping either. I wasn’t surprised. I was expecting my life to take a downward dive forever anyway. I sighed. “When it rains, it pours.” Derrick said. “I’m sorry. Don’t stress - we’ll figure it out. I’ll always have your back, Elizabeth.” At least I wasn’t in this alone.

When you are going through hell, having a person walking through the fire with you makes all the difference in the world. I didn’t know how to walk through hell. Bad things had never been a part of my life growing up until I hooked up with Derrick. It’s not only his fault, though. I let the bad things into my life. I did not see them when they were roaring in my face, but I didn’t look hard enough either, so it’s my fault too.

At this point, some people knew that I was back with Derrick, but I didn’t know exactly who knew. I did not tell my family. It would upset them too much and they would wonder what the hell was wrong with me. They were already totally confused. It was never in my personality to hang around destructive people - definitely not drug addicts. To become one myself was completely out of character. My family was already worried about losing me to drugs, drinking, self-destruction, and maybe even death. The first person in my family that I told was my mom. She was already at a loss. She didn’t encourage it, and she didn’t make me feel bad. She knew that at this point, the only thing anyone could do to help me was to just be nice and treat me with dignity and let me know they were there for me. My mom knew all of this, so she just listened to me talk about things. I don’t even remember what I said. It was probably all nonsense.

Early one morning Derrick had to get up and go to his first day of work at a job he previously had. The owner liked him and even though he quit, he let him return. That meant I had to drop him off on my way to school. I was starting a summer course for phlebotomy. I was excited at the thought of learning how to draw blood. I wanted to be a nurse anyway so it would be good to have that under my belt.

As we walked out the back door and headed towards my car, I could not believe who was practically running at me. Angry as hell at 7:00 in the morning, my dad had driven an hour to get there just to spy on me. I had stopped talking to him and I’m guessing he became suspicious. It was not like me to suddenly stop contacting him after he paid my rent for me. He was good about doing nice things like that when I really needed help. He visited me more than anyone in my family when I was all alone and miserable, but that was because he lived the closest. Sometimes, I thought he had ESP. He always seemed to call or show up when I was doing something I shouldn’t have been doing. He called once when I was fourteen and messing around with a boyfriend in my bedroom. Sure enough, Lilah answered the call and ran the phone up to me before I could even get dressed. I was so busted. My mom was really upset. He also called at times when I was about to use cocaine or meth - out of the blue and always right before.

“Elizabeth! What the hell is going on here? Why didn’t you call me? I need to talk to you now!” he yelled. I rushed to my car. I didn’t want to face him. I was too ashamed of myself. Derrick raced to the car, too. We locked the doors and I turned on the engine. My dad had blocked me in so I couldn’t leave. He came up to the passenger window where Derrick was sitting. “What the hell are you doing with my daughter? You know you need to just stay away from her. If she is going to get her girls back she can’t be with you!” he yelled while trying to reason and intimidate at the same time. “Look old man, it ain't your business. Now I gotta go to work so move your truck or we’re gonna have problems!” Derrick yelled. “Is that a threat? Are you saying you want to fight? I don’t think it’ll solve anything, but I'll be glad to take you on,” my dad said. Derrick was tall, about 5’11” to 6 feet. My dad was taller at about 6’1”. I was not sure who would win in a fight and I didn’t want to find out. Derrick was very stocky, and his fists were huge. My dad had been running his own furniture moving for over twenty years. He was in good shape. This was bad.

I felt really bad for my dad, but I was really upset that he had just showed up. I was totally caught off guard, and I was not a little kid! He had no right to be here, I thought. “Dad! Just move your truck! I have to go to school and he is going to be late for work!” I screamed out of frustration. He walked away, shaking his head in disappointment. I really wasn’t as angry as I was sad. My dad did a lot to show he cared. I went behind his back and let Derrick come back into my life. I just completely avoided his calls after that, mainly because I was ashamed of myself and I knew he was disappointed. I drove off as fast as I could, and I noticed that my dad was trying to keep up with me. I floored it and took some quick turns and he lost me.

After dropping off Derrick, I drove to school with a lump in my throat and trying not to cry. I couldn’t do anything right or make anyone happy. I stopped caring about hurting other people after that. If I cared, it would hurt me even more. I would hide away in my twisted little world and just wait for the mess to resolve itself.

The mess became a little bit messier a few weeks later. I thought that because I was so skinny and under so much stress, there was no way I could get pregnant. I wasn’t having periods and thought my entire system was just off balance. I started to feel cramps one night after work. I expected to get my period at any minute. The next day came and nothing. The day after that I was still cramping but nothing. I knew what was going on. I knew exactly what was going on. I was numb to this too. I refused to let anything else screw with my emotions. “Derrick,” I said. “What?” he yelled from the bottom of the stairs in that obnoxious, loud whine he frequently vocalized. “We need to run to the store really fast - like tonight. I can’t handle this shit anymore.” I demanded. “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked, truly confused. “I need to get a pregnancy test. Okay?” I was done explaining myself to the world.

I couldn’t hide everything...