I will be reading this at the parole hearing on Wednesday:
*************************************
May it please the court. My name is Melissa D. and I represent my mother Joann, myself and my sister Renee. I also represent my sister Melinda and the rest of my family. I also owe this to the other victims of violent crime are who have been silenced by murder, and those who are too scared to speak or who have spoken and are not heard. I owe it to the public.
I owe it to Rod*ney Le*e Lin*coln, who may not yet understand the enormity of the damage he inflicted on April 27, 1982.
There are no words to describe what follows when your mother is ripped from life. There are no words to describe the feeling when your innocence is stolen from you.
As for my mom Joann, even though she was middle-aged and to many people she was probably past her prime, my mother still had a lot to offer the world. She was beautiful. She was funny. She was emotional and she was loving. She had a heart of gold. She gave you a chance, even when the rest of the world felt that you didn�t deserve one, which explains what Rodney was doing in her life when they met.
Mom wore her heart on her sleeve and she got hurt because of it.
I know that I have felt extremely lucky to have been her daughter. She loved me and my sisters with everything she had. The absence of her loving touch has always left a huge void in my life. I know that she is with me in spirit but I am selfish because I want her here.
She still had potential. She was so much to so many people, and she was my world. I continue to feel the loss to this day. She was the pillar of my family, and over the years, in her absence, the family has splintered off.
She was a grandmother, mother, daughter, sister, cousin, and best friend.
Many times I have asked God why a beautiful person like my mom, Joann Tate, is dead and people like Rodney continue to live. It doesn�t seem fair like a fair exchange.
For me, the murder triggered a number of events that could have been averted had Rodney Lincoln turned around and went back home instead of coming into our house. He had many chances that night to stop the madness and to make things right. Instead he made a number of choices that ultimately drastically affected my life, my family�s life and ended my mother�s life.
Instead of considering doing the right thing, at the end of it all, he sat and watched TV while we slowly bled. He watched TV while my mom�s body lay 8 feet or so from him on the floor. He watched TV while two innocent children lay dying in the next room.
My four-year-old baby sister was cold and blue when we were found. He had slashed her little throat, all the way back to her vertebrae. It is a wonder she survived and had no damage to her spinal cord. The emergency room doctors said Renee was as close to death as you can be without actually dying.
After the attack on my mother, she lay bleeding to death on the floor. As if my mother hadn�t suffered enough, he put a broom up inside of her. That image, the memory of his face and many others from that night, will stick in my mind forever. I wish I could remember all the lovely things about my mom, but my brain clearly remembers ugly things like that. It is extremely mentally damaging to see things like that at such a young age, but I don�t think Rodney thought I�d live through the night to talk about it.
It irritates me that people think because I was young that I would not be able to comprehend and remember the attack. People underestimated me then and they do it now. Intelligence of the victim is definitely underestimated in cases like mine.
This sick man has no conscience.
What stands out to me and unnerves me to this day is how calm he was. He was calm when I woke up and saw my mother on the floor. He was calm when he undressed me and he was calm when he tried to put his penis inside me. He was calm when he put a pillow over my face in an attempt to smother me. He was calm when he repeatedly stabbed me and I screamed for my life.
When I was trying to get away from him, I was on my stomach trying to crawl off my mother�s bed. That�s when he took the knife and cut me from the top of my rectum, all the way to the front of my vagina. I had to have reconstructive surgery to correct the damage. My family was told I�d never be able to carry a child.
The sheer brutality of the attack still makes me shake. Not before then or since have I ever witnessed such hatred and venomous loathing in another person for me. While he was hurting me I wondered what I did to deserve him stabbing me. I could not reason it out in my head. I was so confused, hurt and traumatized.
What kind of coward would attempt to kill a child?
One of Rodney�s caliber. He is the worst of the worst of criminals. A baby killer. The minor fact that we both lived doesn�t factor in because the fact is, he intended for us to die.
To this day I suffer from many issues that have plagued me my entire life. I have night terrors, which are unusual for people over the age of 13. I am constantly running from a bad guy. I wake up with my heart pounding convinced someone is trying to kill me.
I used to have these night terrors 4-5 nights a week, but since I�ve had sleep therapy, they�ve decreased. I dealt with night terrors for 22 years. I also have REM Behavior disorder, a rare sleep disorder where people act out their dreams caused by severe traumatic events.
I am now on a medication for the sleep disorder that I will have to be on the rest of my life. Thanks to Rodney. The attack is a gift that keeps on giving.
I spent so much of my life being fatigued from bad sleep that I put on weight and isolated myself.
This of course, led to the end of my military career after 5 years, because I was so depressed and tired that I steadily gained weight. I still mourn for that career that I could have had.
I get panic attacks. Whenever I feel I�m in danger or threatened, I lose my breath and the world becomes quiet for a time. My heart pounds. It feels like I�m in a time capsule. The world is going on its business around me, and I�m frozen in a moment of terror. I think, �Don�t they know something is terribly wrong?� Sometimes, I feel like I might die right there.
I am pretty certain I have Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Certain events trigger flashbacks. Loud noises send me into a state of anxiety. I cannot be around men that are of small build with brown hair that resemble Rodney. I don�t like it when someone is unusually calm in a moment of distress. I do not like strong-silent types.
There are times when I have a moment of sheer terror when I feel like he is standing beside me or behind me. It makes me feel little again. I remember how frightened I was and remember hoping that it was all a dream.
Welcome to the nightmare that was that night.
It�s not that I fear him. I fear the evil that originates from him. Rodney was an instrument of evil. He did the devil�s bidding. Instead of doing good, he chose the path that satisfied him the most: death and destruction.
Rodney is a cold, callous, small little man who no doubt delighted in making this child feeling slight and insignificant. It must have made him feel big and powerful, to exact such punishment on my mom, me and my sister.
To this day, Renee will ask me, �What did we do to deserve that?� That would be society�s doing. No where else could Renee have learned that we had to have done something wrong to deserve such a terrible thing.
�Renee, we didn�t do anything. None of us did.� No one deserved what happened to us that night.
I have phobias that I am just now starting to overcome. These phobias stem from fear. Fear of change, fear of success, fear of ridicule. I spent many years being afraid. Not anymore. I cannot control what happens in my sleep but I will not spend another day of my life being afraid.
However, because of what happened, I cannot have a normal dating experience. I have a two page mental checklist for men in my life. So far, only one has passed. I am hyper-vigilant about personality traits and behaviors. There is always the fear that someone I date or could marry might kill me. I don�t know another woman who has that fear. I�m guessing that it is unique to my situation.
Overcoming that fear would be tremendous.
I don�t trust people. Many of my relationships suffer from my detachment. I have a hard time committing to someone when the fear is that they�ll leave me via choice or death. I have a hard time establishing bonds with other people because in my experience, those I loved died on me. It all started with my mom.
I have Bipolar disorder. Of all my problems, this is the one that am the most angry about. Sometimes this disorder is genetic, but depending on a child�s environment they may or may not develop it. Thanks to Rodney, because he killed my mother, I ended up being adopted by an Uncle Derwin and my Aunt Rachel. This should�ve been the happiest times of my life because it was my childhood. Unfortunately, my aunt Rachel died 4 years after my mom, and the uncle became an extremely abusive person. He sadistically and severely physically and sexually abused me for 3 years, which has scarred me for life. I can�t help but think that this would not have happened had I stayed with my mom.
The vicious attack from Rodney combined with the trauma of losing my mother combined with the loss of my aunt and the consequent physical and sexual abuse from my uncle Derwin contributed to my mental duress.
Sometimes, I�m not even sure what normal emotions are�
What comforts me is no matter what Rodney did to my head; he did not change what�s inside of me. I would never take another person�s life, unless it would be to push a button on his electric chair.
Life is so sacred and precious. I knew it at age 5. How could he not know it? How can he sleep at night knowing what he did? I cannot sleep if a cashier forgets to ring up something in the bottom of my cart. But he has killed people and destroyed other people�s lives. Obviously, I am right. He doesn�t have a conscience.
I was a victim of a vicious attack. What the experience of murder to me is:
�lying on a floor underneath my sister�s bed, less than 3 feet from my mother, who was lying on the floor. It�s knowing then that she was probably dead.
�it�s waking up from passing out and seeing Rodney sit on the edge of the bed and smoke cigarettes and watch T.V. , thus ensuring my mother�s bleeding to death and the window of survival for me and my sister narrowing every moment he was in the house.
�it�s struggling to make it to the kitchen to get my baby sister a glass of water, and it�s seeing the water come out of the wound on her throat.
�.it�s seeing jagged, red, bleeding wounds all over my body.
�it�s somehow knowing at the moment I touched my mother that she was probably dead, and my brain repressing that fact.
�it�s passing out after I realized that the phone had been ripped out of the wall and also realizing I could not reach the latch to open the door.
�.it�s being told in the ambulance, when I asked where my mom was�and being told that another ambulance would bring her to the hospital. Somehow, I knew the paramedic was lying.
�.it�s seeing your mother�s funeral on T.V. while you lay in a hospital bed in the intensive care unit. It�s not being able to say goodbye.
�it�s being scared Rodney will come back to finish what he started.
�it�s learning to walk again because my legs and back had nerve damage.
�it�s having a cholostomy and having to use the bathroom through holes in my abdomen because I did not have control of my vaginal and anal area because Rodney sliced me up like a Christmas ham.
�it�s having 3 surgeries to correct the damage he did and having scars the rest of my life to remind me of what he did. It�s wondering if anyone could ever love someone covered in scars. That really tormented me for a while.
�.it�s seeing my favorite Aunt Rachel smile for me whenever she was at the hospital with me, and knowing now that she must�ve cried like a baby in private.
�knowing that I probably should have died that day. That my baby sister was closer to death than I was.
�knowing that mother didn�t have to die.
�knowing that a grown man tried to kill me when I was 7 � years old.
�always feeling like I didn�t belong. It�s always feeling like something is missing. It�s knowing that I probably wouldn�t get unconditional love anywhere else. It�s not feeling accepted by other people and feeling judged, dirty and shamed because I had such a painful past.
� it�s knowing at a young age that the world was a terrible place.
�it�s knowing that if it weren�t me, it would be someone else.
�it�s knowing that my mother wasn�t his first victim�
.it�s having my innocence stolen from me.
�it�s knowing that he could�ve turned things around at any time, and he had the power to, and yet he chose not to.
�it�s having his face burned into my memory, and not being able to get rid of it no matter what I do. It�s knowing with all my heart what I saw. It�s not doubting myself, even though some people would rather believe a murderer than a victim.
�.it�s going through life sad and lonely on the inside, and smiling for everyone else because you know they couldn�t bear to possibly know the truth, which was that I was always in emotional pain, and sometimes, I wanted to die.
�.it�s graduating from high school and my mom not being there.
�it�s graduating from Navy boot camp and my mom not being at the Pass and Review ceremony.
�it�s getting married and my mom not being there to witness it. It�s having that child that I was told I couldn�t have. It�s knowing that her Grandma knew her in heaven, but would not be able to be with her on earth.
�it�s getting divorced and not having my mom to talk to.
�it�s knowing Rodney could apologize and acknowledge what he�s done. It�s knowing he�s too much of a coward to do so.
�it�s knowing that, even 23 years later, that people still blame the victims. Or drag the victims through the mud.
�it�s knowing Rodney did it. It�s going to trial. It�s testifying at the trial. It�s knowing that 21 years later, when I had started to think it was all over, that it would all start anew.
�it�s the rage I feel when I think about him.
�it�s missing my mother in my everyday life. The sadness, the sorrow, the hollowness, the longing, the pain, the anguish, the agony, the endless tears. It�s spending my whole life waiting for the moment I�ll see my mom in heaven and it�s knowing that at the end of my life, she�ll be waiting for me on the other side.
�.it�s watching your family slowly disintegrate over the years because the murder has had a ripple effect on each generation. It�s looking into my Uncle Nat�s eyes and knowing that he has suffered so much because of what happened to his beloved sister Joann. He saw that crime scene and it�s something he lives with every single day of his life.
�it�s knowing that most people in my family suffer from depression because of the murder.
�. It�s seeing the sadness etched into my grandmother�s face. She always said a parent shouldn�t have to bury a child. She lost two. I can�t imagine what that is like.
�it�s losing my Grandma, not having my mom there to comfort me, and knowing one of the last few sources of unconditional love has passed from this life to the next and that I am alone now. It�s feeling utterly alone without my mom, and now, without my grandma.
..it�s laughing and crying all at once when my daughter paints the dog�s toenails like my mom used to do to our dog.
�it�s knowing I could never describe what it�s like to be me. You can never imagine. It�s knowing that I will live with what he did every day for the rest of my life.
�it�s wishing I could meet him in a dark alley and teach him a thing or two about hurting women and children. It�s not being afraid of him anymore and wishing he would do the world a favor and die already.
�it�s knowing that I�ve worked since I was 15 and that my tax dollars have paid for my attacker to have food, drink, TV, exercise and access to educational tools, the internet and legal help. It�s the anger I feel that while my mom never got a second chance, Rodney repeatedly gets 2nd, 3rd, 4th and 5th chances to try to prove his innocence.
�it�s having faith that somehow the truth and justice will prevail.
I respectfully request that Rodney be denied parole once again. After all, I got a life sentence. Why shouldn�t he?
There is not a day that goes by that I don�t think about my mother. Sometimes I think about the life I could�ve had, and I feel robbed. Life is so much more difficult when terrible things happen to you during your childhood.
Somewhere in my mind it is always happening. It is like my mom is being murdered over and over again. I am being attacked over and over again. And then there is the agonizing wait for help that doesn�t come until the morning.
Please help stop the cycle of violence and keep Rodney in prison. He is not only a danger to himself but also a menace to society. He is a narcissist, psychopath and a pathological liar.
He has demonstrated that he cannot be a contributing member of society. In addition he has no conscience and this trait will only aid him in committing another heinous crime where he will once again claim, �I didn�t do it!� What a liar. How many times can one cry wolf, and when do people stop believing it?
He has no qualms about hurting children. To me this is the most important and telling factor. Please do not let another family fall victim to him. Please allow my daughter and Renee�s children to grow up in a world where they don�t look over their shoulders for the �bad guy� that killed their grandmother and tried to kill her mothers.
I think the justice system owes my daughter and my family that much.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Thank you,
Melissa
10:23 am - April 17, 2006
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