I have a lot to do today, but I haven�t written in a few days and thought y�all might like to know what�s going on. I think you all know that the past 8 weeks or so I�ve been in limbo waiting for DNA results for my mother�s killer and my attacker. This case is 21 years old so this has been dredging up some long forgotten issues of mine.
I�ve been anxious.
I�ve been tired.
I�ve been moody and depressed.
A week or so after I got the information that the Justice Department had chosen this as one of the 1400 cases in Missouri that they were reviewing, I sent the Circuit Attorney a terse email asking for her audience. She called me right away, sounding very apologetic. Let�s call her JJ. I explained to her how traumatized my family is by this whole thing, and that folks in my clan were depressed and enraged by it. Folks are afraid, I said to her.
The CA offered to give my family a chance to attend a Q&A session at a mutually convenient date to ask her questions. To feel better, to feel empowered. I felt this was very thoughtful of her. I mean, it�s not everyday the circuit attorney sets aside time for a family.
She prosecutes folks. That�s what she does. I was touched and accepted her offer on behalf of the family.
I had spent the last two months talking to my family about this and what I�ve learned is: I�m alone in this.
That�s what the sarcastic me says anyway.
The realistic me says that people deal with grief in different ways. Some people avoid any reminders; some don�t talk about or acknowledge it. To victims like me, that is a refusal to acknowledge the emotional and physical damage inflicted on me by my mother�s killer. That�s taking away my right to grieve and feel pain, sadness or anger about it.
On my side, I always try to think of how my Aunt feels, or my cousins, or my uncles. Just because they weren�t physically hurt doesn�t mean they weren�t emotionally devastated. I always try to understand that.
I was hoping they�d consider mine too.
So, as of a few weeks ago, it was very apparent that my Aunt Abby and me were the only one�s going. I was miffed somewhat by the seemingly apparent lack of support from the others, but I knew I wasn�t going in there by myself. It never occured to me to ask my family to come to the courthouse with me.
Monday night comes quickly, as the weekend flew by. I was very tired but unable to sleep, contemplating meeting one of my heroes in person. Contemplating whether or not my lawyer Joe would be able to show up. Wondering what questions to ask the CA. Hoping I wouldn�t turn into a sniveling, heaving mess.
Talking about this subject makes me tongue-tied and emotional sometimes.
At last I drifted off to sleep. It was fitful; I tossed and turned because I felt this uneasiness settling over me like a cloud of thick smoke. I could still breathe, but I was frightened.
Tuesday, the day of reckoning, I awoke feeling like I�d had 15 tequila shots the night before. My whole body hurt, and my head was aching. I had planned on dressing up very nicely, wearing something professional that I�d wear to work on a day when the big boss was visiting.
Instead, I tossed the dress shirt, the black slacks and boots back into the closet, not bothering to hang them up, and slammed the door closed. Then, I fumbled around until I found my weekend party jeans, my Reeboks and Navy blue oversize men�s shirt.
I really didn�t care what I looked like.
When I got to work, I went ahead and put my face on, not wanting to scare anybody with my Edward scissorhands look. Even though I was busy that day, I hovered by the phone, waiting to see if anyone was going to call and volunteer to go to the courthouse anyway.
Nobody did.
I know my friend Lisa would�ve.
I know my new cousins would�ve.
Rene� did.
Well, he did because I sucked it up and asked Mr. Sweatpants to go with me. I had hesitated to because I know he�s socking all his energy into the Master�s Degree program he�s in. He�s so anal. Still, I wasn�t going to go by myself, and he graciously said he would accompany me.
We found the Mel Carnahan courthouse without any problem. However we were rudely accosted by these little ghetto girlscouts. �Would you like to buy some cookies,� one said, chewing gum loudly and hopping in front of me while I was sprinting up the 25 or so steps. We had 8 minutes to find the Circuit Attorney�s office, thanks to Grandpa Rene�. A five-minute drive took 15 minutes.
�No honey, I�m late. Maybe on the way out..� I murmured. She turns around in this way too adult voice, �What choo late fo?�
I turned around and said, �None of your business, little girl!�
I was NOT in the mood. The felons waiting to be called into the courtroom snickered and guffawed. I just glared at them. I wasn�t here to entertain anybody.
What kind of morons put revolving doors on the Mel Carnahan courthouse? First of all, how are you supposed to get prisoners in there? They aren�t roomy that�s for sure. Some thug in front of me stops and waves to his buddy out on the sidewalk. I patiently stand there until he turns around and sees me. I say, �I was wondering if you were ever gonna move,� and he smiles and let�s me pass.
I finally get inside and immediately I am impressed with the giant gray marble beams from the floor to the ceiling. I am impressed that it takes 6 guards to check everyone coming in the front door. Well, make that 5 guards and one comedian.
I walk through the metal detector and it goes off. I say, �That�s probably my badge.� He said, �No it ain�t�. I say, �Well, maybe it�s the underwire in my bra..or my keys.� So I take the keys out and throw them in the basket. He runs the wand over me again. �It�s the underwire,� and he�s laughing at me. All right, chocolate Steve Martin, you need to stop playing!
Wryly I grabbed my keys and said, �I bet your girlfriend is frustrated,� and he said, �She sure is� while grinning ear to ear.
Rene� and I find an elevator. Except, a felon in handcuffs was getting on with two guards. �I think we�ll wait,� my glare said to Rene�, my eyes as large as saucers. He nodded silently at me and told the group, �We�ll catch the next one,� and I point to Rene� and as the doors close I say, �He has terrible gas,� and they crack up.
I�m bad.
While sitting in the little waiting room waiting for the CA; I start getting really nervous. I started crying and fanning my eyes. I say �Calm me down, calm me down!!� at which point Rene� starts praying out loud. It�s sweet but the thought of heavenly intervention at this juncture was more than I could hope for, and I started laughing. He abruptly stops praying and peers at me like he thinks I�ve lost my mind.
What the hell is wrong with me?
All of the sudden, the door swings wide open and I am greeted with the sight of a tall, statuesque, woman. She has light brown hair, gorgeous high cheekbones, and piercing almond shaped sky blue eyes. Everything on her is long and lean, except for her perfectly heart shaped face, which is framed by a chin length asymmetrical bob.
She is dressed impeccably in a sleeveless cr�me shell and a turquoise pencil skirt and matching heels. She is fair skinned but not pale. I am almost nauseous with anxiety. She is as beautiful as I thought she was going to be. Now, to most folks this would be like meeting a celebrity.
This is the field I want to go into and she is my idol who I�ve been following for a while now.
Her career is something I always follow because she is a straight up bulldog when it comes to victim�s rights. I am proud of our sister JJ.
I am now also anxious that these people will not understand me, and that I may feel inferior, and that I will get flustered.
This was groundless; I was to find out later. We sequestered in this beautiful corner office overlooking downtown St. Louis. The Arch actually filled up the upper top of the window. The scene was reflected beautifully in the gleaming twelve-person oak table.
As we noisily sat down, the CA introduced my lawyer, the Chief Investigator, the head of Victims Services Taffy, and of course, Rene�.
We�d all like to think that I spoke eloquently, and behaved in a delicate, demure fashion.
Instead, I cried all over the table and went through half a box of Kleenex describing to the CA that most of my life has been like a Freddy Krueger movie.
I�m always looking over my shoulder for that invisible phantom.
The unseen attacker.
The elusive and yet predatorily killer.
I told her that while I�m glad I was given a chance to speak on what happened to me, I was highly shocked at seeing Rodney on television. I felt stupid because I sort of asked for it by talking about it. I just never thought anyone would interview him.
I was mortified that I raised Cain about my family being victimized and was mortified that not a one had showed up to meet these people.
I was sad that I felt pretty useless in the whole process.
I was worried that this man might come back and kill me, or sue me.
I�m wondering if my baby sister will ever recover from this.
Most of all, I am wondering if I�ll ever be normal.
I�m hoping JJ knew that I came to show her that the family does care what happens to Rodney. We care that he�s in jail, we�re happy with him there. We care that our tax dollars pay for his upkeep, and that the electric chair or any other form of early death is what is going to help us sleep at night. Otherwise, there is always the possibility in our minds that he will come back.
I got a lot of positive feedback from everyone. I guess I just needed to say my peace.
The CA told me that she didn�t blame me if I hated her. �Why would I hate you, J? You are not the enemy, he is.�
She absorbed this with a nod, and that�s when I saw the bags under her eyes. She doesn�t get much sleep, I now know. She sees things other people don�t. She feels responsible for us being upset and probably has a lot of people for blaming her for things beyond her control. I understand.
She�s human too.
I walked away from that meeting feeling better.
�Mama, no one is going to forget about you..he�s not going to get out.� I whispered this to myself.
That is all for now..
1:09 p.m. - 2003-07-31
Recent entries:
What you missed - January 16, 2012
%%older_entries%%From hell - October 19, 2010
%%older_entries%%a rant from a few weeks ago - August 17, 2010
%%older_entries%%Tired - June 20, 2010
%%older_entries%%A beautiful lie - March 11, 2010
%%older_entries%%
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