**TRIGGER WARNING: This post contains graphic content that may trigger PTSD, proceed at your own risk**
In honor of Domestic Violence Awareness Month, and given recent newsworthy events, I feel compelled to share a little more about my experience in an abusive relationship.
So, there are many things I can say about Gabby Petito, the events leading up her death, and all that has transpired since. Aside from the following statement, I won’t touch on the gross disparity in the media coverage and immediacy of the action taken by law enforcement agencies between her disappearance and that of women and girls of color – I’ll leave that for another post.
Anyone who followed the story, I am sure watched the video of Gabby and her partner’s encounter with law enforcement. Like many other victims of domestic violence, there were striking similarities between her and I. Just watching that video made my body react in much the same way it had when this happened to me. I am grateful it has been long enough since my experience that I was able to watch the full video without sending myself into a complete PTS spiral.
You see, the ONLY TIME I have ever been arrested was because, unlike Gabby, I refused to talk to the police. I didn’t want them to leave us alone in the car. I didn’t try to take the blame. I knew the most likely outcome had they let him take me home. Instead, I let them arrest me. It was the only way I was going to get away from him.
Much to my dismay, they arrested me and let him go free… HOW!!??!! How the fuck can someone basically kidnap another human and get away with it?
Just like Gabby’s partner, mine talked and joked with the officers. He showed them his bruises and the bite mark complete with torn skin left by me. But what he didn’t tell them was that I bit him because he was restraining my wrists so tight to his body that my head was in his lap, that he was kidnapping me and taking me against my will, that his intentions when we got home were not innocent, that he was going to harm me further if I cooperated with them. The only way I knew how to get him to release my wrists was to clamp down like KUJO and not let go until he did… He ripped his arm away, resulting in the torn skin and blood.
This all transpired the evening we found out – for certain – I was pregnant with his child.
At the time, my partner and I were living in Greeley. We had been in Fort Collins at the Public Library so he could look for a job. The library was about 1/2 mile from my parent’s house. The plan was to go to my parents house afterwards to share the news. I hadn’t eaten that day, because morning sickness, and was excited to eat the smothered burritos (my favorite) that my mama was making for dinner that night.
Instead, we got into an argument on the short drive there – all because he whistled at another girl as she bent down to get something out of her car. He began gaslighting me, telling me I was making a big deal out of nothing, acting like I was the crazy one for being offended by his ‘innocent actions’. **UM NO!!**
This is where things took a turn for the worst.
We were literally a block away from my parent’s house, he ran the stop sign and drove past his turn. I asked him to stop several times, just let me out. I want to go to my parent’s house. I don’t want to be in the car with you right now. I want to eat. I am starving. I don’t care if you don’t want to go, just drop me off. JUST STOP THE CAR SO I CAN GET OUT, I WILL WALK. Anything. I pleaded with him. But nothing. He was just silent as he continued to speed past every stop sign and stop light he could.
Until he couldn’t.
We were approaching the light on Mulberry and Lemay when the light turned red. There were cars in front of us and next to us, so he had no option but to stop. This was it, this was my chance to get out. I went for it!
As I opened the door, he YANKED me back in by the collar of my sweatshirt and one of my wrists. My other hand, still on the door, pulled it closed as I was pulled basically into his lap. However, it did not close all the way, leaving the dome light on… Unbeknownst to either of us, this was my saving grace.
At that moment, I reacted the only way I knew how, I began to swing my fists. I swung my free fist as hard and as fast as I could. Trying my damnedest to get free before the light changed. Unfortunately, I was not successful. BUT, the car was a standard, so he had to free up one had to shift gears – or so I thought. Instead, he tightened his grip on my wrist and used his fingers to push the shifter.
Eventually, I was able to free my other wrist and I pushed the door open again – thinking that maybe he’d stop because the door was wide open as we traveled 60+ mph and if nothing less, I’d tuck and roll… That is how bad I wanted to get away from him. Based on the route he was taking, I knew he was trying to take me back to our house in Greeley. After months of abuse, the last thing I wanted was to be trapped at our house alone with him, without a phone or car or any family near by. I was willing to do anything I could to get away from him.
Instead of pulling over and stopping, he swerved hard enough to close the door. I was able to free both of my wrists and I yanked the gear shifter back pulling the car out of gear trying to get him to pull over (a tactic he had pulled on me multiple times). He grabbed my wrist, shoved the car back into gear, and immediately threw me up against the passenger door window by my neck.
I grabbed his wrist and twisted it off (using an Aikido move my dad and brother had taught me as a young girl), then began to swing again. I didn’t care where my fists landed, as long as they were on him. He eventually caught one and yanked me into his lap. This is when I bit him.
I screamed at the top of my lungs, yelling at him to pull over and let me out. He yelled at me to stop biting him, hitting me in the back of the head with his free hand, me blindly swinging with my free hand as my head remained in his lap and teeth embedded in his wrist.
Eventually he told me no. He was taking me back to the house so he could “get his stuff and leave” since I didn’t want to be with him. I said great, just leave me here and be on your way. I want to go to my parent’s house, not home with you.
He still wouldn’t stop. This back and forth continued as we merged onto I-25. Just as I began to succumb to my fate – quieting my cries for release, calming the fight for freedom, reserving my energy for the fight that is on the horizon – blue and red lights began flashing behind us.
Remember the dome light that stayed? It put a spotlight on our fight. A concerned citizen in a vehicle behind us watched as I fought for my life, they called the police and stayed behind us until the cops pulled us over. That concerned citizen saved my life.
I expected the cops to take my abuser into custody. He threatened me and ‘warned’ me not to cooperate with the officer – “Don’t get out.” he said through gritted teeth. “FUCK YOU.” I said just before I rolled down the window, per the officer’s request.
I cooperated to a certain point, I got out of the car when asked, I spoke in as calm of a fashion as I could with the officer, but I exercised my right to remain silent… I mean, I was so fucking angry and scared, I couldn’t talk… All while he was playing the “she’s crazy” card with the officer he was speaking with. The young, inexperienced officer fell prey to his tactics. I was the problem, I was the attacker, I made him bleed, I was arrested and charged with a felony. A FUCKING FELONY for defending myself and trying to escape from my kidnapper.
I was handcuffed and put in the back of a police car, I sat there and watched them take pictures of his bruises as he animatedly talked with them. I was taken into custody, locked up in a cold, concrete holding cell, handcuffed to an uncomfortable picnic bench. He was free to leave. Not once did they bother to look at my neck or wrists, nor did they take pictures of the bruises he left on me. I was LIVID, but I was also SO GRATEFUL to have gotten away from that man. I was alive, and in that moment, that is all that mattered to me.
This happened on a Friday evening. I was taken to LCDC and booked. I just missed the ‘dinner’ service, so I was left to starve until ‘breakfast’ was served – a fucking bolgonia sandwich and some orange “juice” (some nasty ass orange tang shit that was fucking disgusting). I was put into general population for the weekend while I waited to see the judge on Monday.
A weekend in jail because HE WHISTLED AT ANOTHER GIRL IN FRONT OF ME AND I CALLED HIM OUT FOR IT.
I wish I could say our relationship ended there. I can’t.
However, I am alive today because of that weekend in jail. Gabby was not so lucky. RIP sweet girl, RIP.