Victim Impact Statement

It's always interesting to look at what keywords or phrases bring people to this site. One search this week was "Actual Victim Impact Statements".

The sadly ironic thing is, I did that exact search before I started writing mine. What do you say? How can you encapsulate years of pain and betrayal into one piece of paper? All of the stuff I found online ended up being like the piece of paper I got from the judicial system, a series of questions that made me feel victimized all over again.

Because, as all people who have gone through this can attest to, we are ALL THE SAME. OUR STORIES ARE IDENTICAL AND THUS WE MUST FIT OUR EXPERIENCES INTO THE EXACT SAME SET OF QUESTIONS.

If you're here, doing a search for victim impact statements, all I can offer is the text of what I said in court.

And we are NOT all the same. We do NOT have the same experiences. And NEVER let ANYONE, including that niggling voice in the back of your own brain, tell you that you shouldn't write your own statement.

Don't feel like a failure if you can't read your own statement. You can have someone else do that for you.

The content of my impact statement is as follows:

I’m here as ______’s mother and for 17 years, the wife of Tracy Shaddox. I’m supposed to somehow verbalize the devastation that this man has brought down upon our family.

The only way I know to preface my statement is to say that I know what it’s like to be the survivor of sexual abuse because I am one.

Tracy has been very articulate during the omnibus hearing in letting us know that he has become enlightened during his therapy regarding his own victimization as a youth and how it led to what he is today.

But what does that say for _____? What does that say for me, the parent that now bears the sole responsibility for holding the safety net beneath her as she goes out into the world? She’ll be more likely to drink or take drugs to dull the emotional pain that her father has caused her. She’ll be more likely, and I can fully attest to this, enter into abusive or unhealthy relationships. She’ll be more likely to engage in self mutilation or attempt suicide. All because of the choice her father made when she was 9 years old.

And no matter how he frames his story, it all comes down to one thing: choice.

We can’t control what other people do to us but we can control how we react to it. Tracy knew I was a survivor of sexual abuse. All he would have had to do was open his mouth and tell me that he needed help. There is no stronger ally that a victim of sexual abuse has than another victim. But he didn’t ask for help. He perpetuated the cycle.

How will _____ understand what it is like to be in a normal relationship when her first sexual experience was with her father? How will she ever learn that there are good and decent men in this world when the most important man in her life did this to her? I live in fear that ____ will fall into the trap that I fell into. She won’t think she is worthy to be treated well. She’ll do the same thing that I did and suffer through years of a miserable marriage because she won’t think she deserves better.

But being _____’s safety net is only half of my battle. Every waking moment of my life since I found this out has been me, asking myself, how come I failed my daughter? The only job I ever cared about with every fiber of my being was my job as a mother. I told my kids when they were little that there were bad people in the world. I told them not to accept candy from strangers. I told them not to get into strange cars. But I never thought I would have to warn them about their own father.

Tracy isn’t the only one going through therapy. Both ____ and I have been seeing counselors. And I have fought so hard for so many days, sometimes minute to minute, fighting the urge to just give up because of the maternal guilt that I feel.

Back when _____ was a toddler, she woke up from her nap early and came into our bedroom where her father and I were having sex. I remember trying to grab my robe and escort her out of the room and Tracy tried to stop me by saying “Let’s just keep doing it in front of her. It’ll be funny.” And being the survivor of sexual abuse, I totally freaked out and got her out of the room and it haunted me for days. But instead of confronting him, I took the easy way out. I said nothing.

I also live with the fact that, as I do the math and figure out when he was abusing ____, he asked me once, during sex, to call him “daddy”. I can recall it like yesterday because it instantly made me want to throw up. I now live with the fact that he was fantasizing about having sex with our daughter when he was having sex with me.

There are days that I can’t even stand to live in my own skin.

I stand here a failure. I failed to protect my daughter from the only man that I ever trusted.

I don’t care how much progress Tracy says he has made in therapy. I know him now as an adulterer and a pedophile. He has been a master manipulator and liar for our entire marriage.

What I care about is what he did to his daughter for three years of her young life. For three years, Tracy kept her in a prison of his own devising. This is a prison that she remains in to this day.

After her father stopped molesting _____, his attention wavered between totally ignoring her and, as I’ve recently learned, flying into fits of rage at her when they were home alone together. He would scream at her, physically shove her into the wall, and send her running up to her room, trying to get away from him. He would then stand on the other side of her bedroom door and try to bribe her, telling her that he would buy her things so long as she didn’t tell mom.

This has been _____’s life for seven year, living in an emotional prison because of the choices that her father made. Tracy is asking to serve his time locally. In other words, jail, not prison. He’s asking you for mercy.

I ask you now, what about mercy for _____? I can’t conceive of a world that would see a child put through what _____ has been through and then give her perpetrator “mercy”.

I also refute the argument that Tracy is pleading guilty because of his emotional revelations made in therapy. When I confronted him with what I had discovered, he confessed. That is why he pled guilty to you, because he already pled guilty to me. As much as I have learned how much I didn’t know about Tracy Curtis Shaddox, one thing remains true. Tracy knows me. As soon as he confessed, he knew this is exactly where we would end up. Now, he’s trying once again to manipulate the court and make the best out of a bad situation.

In that same respect, if Tracy has learned so much about what is good for his daughter’s mental health during his therapy, I ask why he showed up in court on June 8th in order to block our family from changing our last names from Shaddox. This was a specific request from _____, to separate herself as much as possible from her father. Her father obviously saw it as yet one more attempt to hurt the family that he has nearly utterly destroyed. Once again, he wanted to get his way at the expense of everyone else involved.

I may have failed my daughter when she was nine years old. I can’t fail her now.

Thank you.


*Whatever help you may have been looking for in writing a victim impact statement, I hope this was what you needed.

Good luck.

Gettin' All Pretty For Court. Again.

Nightmares are a funny thing. As are dreams.

I normally can't recall my dreams which I attribute to the fact that my sleep is so poor, my brain never gets in the right place to remember.

Which is why I will probably end up in the booby hatch by the time I'm 50.

Is booby hatch politically correct? Hmmmm. Cracker factory?

After six months of insomnia, I woke up in mid-nightmare last night. The funny thing is, it wasn't so much a traditional nightmare as just an endless tape loop of me, reading my victim impact statement.

I had practiced my statement every morning during the week of the sentencing so I wouldn't break down when I read it. I also knew I couldn't look at anyone or else I wouldn't be able to read it out loud. In court, it ended up being me, staring down at the sheet of paper in front of me, pretending I was alone.

The really weird part was, I don't remember anything that I said.
I don't remember the tone of my voice.
I don't remember anything my daughter said either.

Of course, we KNEW what we said because it was written down, but the actual moment has been blocked out of my mind.

Until this morning at 2 a.m when I woke up in full panic mode because I kept reading my statement and I could never get to the end of it.

After I woke up I ended up going over what he said. Yeah, see that dead horse? BEAT IT! BEAT IT HARD!

A useless, ridiculous activity that just got me all pissed off all over again.

I think if there wasn't a chance that I would have to see him again on Tuesday for the divorce hearing, I wouldn't be going there. At least, I hope I wouldn't.

I am, however, planning my wardrobe for Tuesday's appearance. While I really vacillated on what to wear for the criminal proceedings and, up until now, the divorce proceedings, I am sooooo done with all of this crap. I'm thinking that I will actually bring a change of clothes to put on at work before I go over to the courthouse.

How about a big comfy sleep shirt, cut off jeans, and house slippers? Along with a half burned cigarette hanging out of my mouth, my hair arranged in a freshly fucked all-on-end style, and perhaps a half empty can of Coors in my hand? And lots of blue eye shadow. Perhaps applied with a pneumatic air hose.

I'd like to give everyone the honest to god message of "Really??? Really??? Do we actually have ANYTHING to discuss here???"

Since Jackass and Chuckles (STBX and his lawyer) contested the name change by saying that it should be dealt with in the divorce, you can bet your sweet hootenanny that it will either be written into the final paperwork or I will be flicking boogers over my lawyers head in their general direction.

Oh, and I need to go to the courthouse today for more errands as well.

I swear, I want St. Louis County to give me a frequent flyer card, complete with some sort of "Get three parking tickets, your fourth one is free" deal.

Well, I suppose I'd better get looking for that pneumatic air hose. And can someone lend me a can of Coors? I promise, I'll return it.

TGIF

My daughter and I read each others victim impact statements last night.

I've said it time and time again, my daughter is amazing.

The statements offer the filler between our parallel lives when we were both just trying to survive life with this awful person.

Today will be spent at a training on gender justice at work. All about power, abuse of power, domination, and submission.

It's gonna be a long day.

On the upside, only three more days with this last name...

Victim Impact

Speaking of the mental health thing, (oh, by the way, I'm continuing on yesterday's topic. Please keep up, there will be a test) I think I have pretty much finished my victim impact statement.

I've been working and re-working it, putting it down for a few days, grumbling over it as I weed the garden, returning to it, reading it, and crying like it's all new and fresh once more.

I've finished with group therapy and I've been going to a therapist intermittently but I'm not sure that I've had as much gut wrenching revulsion toward the whole scene as I have while writing this statement.

Speaking with the victim advocate a few days ago, I learned that STBX and his lawyer will be the ones that have to ask for the judge to go outside of the normal sentencing guidelines and give him "mercy". This means, it will be out of the normal sentencing guidelines for him to go to jail and not prison.

If he goes to jail? Probably less than a year in actual time served. How's that for mercy? With all the things that I've discovered and all the hell that I haven't even talked about that my daughter went through, this piece of shit wants mercy.

So, this is an actual case where the victim impact statements that my daughter and I read will actually have a chance to sway the judge. It's not just an exercise in mental health, it's an attempt to put this bastard in prison where he belongs.

It comes down to a near out-of-body experience as I write the story of what being married to this person was like. Of all the signs of his perversion that, in hindsight, shine in the darkness like beacons. Of all the hours that I have beat myself up over being so blind. Of all of the years of his playing the victim while he abused his daughter and tried to bribe her into not telling.

Let me wrap my nightmare up in words of pain and sorrow. Let me say the right thing. And in the end, let me finally rest.

If You Can't Say Something Nice...

In the comments a couple of posts ago, I mentioned our American quick fix ideas when it came to weight loss. If it's bright, shiny and costs a shit load of money, it must work! It will make me lose 50 pounds in two weeks! Whooo hooo! Sign me up!

People are free to be as stupid as they wish. They are free to waste their money. They are free to think swinging from one diet to the next will get them what they want. Frankly, I don't care.

The thing is, we have the same mentality for so many other things as well. Quick fix, get on with it, life is all shiny and happy again. Hey loser, why are you still crying????

I fell into that trap this week. No, things aren't all done with but I certainly hope the worst is over.

So, I asked myself, why am I hit by the sudden need to deflate and cry. Yes, I have my victim impact statement rolling around in my head 24-7. Yes, I see the effects of this life in my kid's eyes. Yes, I feel horribly alone and exposed.

But hey, the worst is over, right?

It didn't hit me until I was out and about and I happened to overhear a conversation while looking for fabric for my tablecloth. While browsing at the quilt store, one of the older employees was discussing how people are treating her, one month after losing her husband of several decades.

They're telling her to get out and start dating.

They're telling her that it's time to get over it.

They are taking whatever she tells them, from the bottom of her heart, and stomping on it.

She was absolutely beside herself. "How can people say that? How can they be so cruel?"

I wanted to give this woman a hug while she cried. I wanted to tell her that I had a shitty marriage for a measly 17 years that ended with infidelity and pedophilia and it's been five months and I'm still not over it. Check back in a year, or two, or more.

People have a right to mourn their sadness.

I actually caught myself humming the other day and it made me stop in my tracks. When was the last time I hummed a tune while cooking dinner? Months.

The realization of moving on made me smile, for a minute. Then I stopped and burst into tears.

It is such a long road to travel.

Looking for a Cheerleader

Today is the one month anniversary of my life's new path.

Sorry America, but I'm absconding with Barack today. Just today. You can have him back tomorrow.

Watching all the "pre-game" coverage on the news last night, I just wanted to put all his wonderful words, positive and strong and hopeful, in my pocket. Along with him.

You never know when you might need an instant cheering section.

What the hell! Michelle can come to!

I have never in my life looked at a first couple and thought "I would LOVE to have a beer with them!" But I do now.

So my soon-to-be-ex-husband is now deciding not to talk to the police. He is exercising his right to remain silent. Of course, this sent me off on another piss fit until I realized that "of course he doesn't want to talk!" He doesn't want to reveal anything that his victim might have forgotten! What a guy! So brave, noble and true!

But my favorite police woman tells me that it doesn't matter. The report will be on the county prosecutor's desk today.

Next step is sentencing, providing he keeps his word that he won't take it to trial. I'm hoping that sentencing will happen this week.

And then there is the victim impact statement. I want to deliver one. I want to stand up in front of my soon-to-be-ex husband and let him know exactly what he has done.

And for that? I think I'm gonna need my Pocket Obama.