After many reminders that calling 911 would be futile, and warnings of what would happen if I tried, one day I packed my husband's things and asked him to move out of our home. The "beginning of the end" was triggered, just as he had warned time and time again. Later that day he left me a message threatening my life. Still later, he returned to the house and his rage intensified from verbal to physical abuse — he had to show me that I will never be successful against him and the Blue Wall with which he was encircled.
I picked up the phone to dial 911 — the forbidden act — only to be physically twisted into a position meant for a criminal. Somehow, I got away and ran to the neighbor’s home to call for help. The children were safe at another neighbor's home — the same home they always ran to when Daddy "had to arrest Mommy when she's bad." Did they all know what was happening in my home? Did I even know what was happening in my home?
I stood on the neighbor's driveway, my face welted red and streaked with tears. The police got there, but the officers walked right past me. After about 20 minutes they emerged from my home, asking me to leave the residence for the night. I then reached for the strength I had found when I had packed his things that very morning and called the Watch Commander. I told them what their officer, my husband, was doing to me.
Soon after my call a lieutenant and sergeant came to my home. They helped him move all of his belongings back into the house. He showed them our home, all the remodeling we'd done. They stood around and talked about the power of the boat in our garage. Then they talked to me. They told me I had no recourse but to file for divorce.
Months later, while exchanging the kids for visitation, my now ex grabbed my arm really hard and threatened me. I called the police, but he was gone by the time they got there. After they finally took me seriously, they decided to arrest him. But then they couldn't find him. I told the assigned detective that my children and I were in fear and great danger and that we would be going to a shelter.
I went to a friend's home to begin making calls to find a shelter. Friends made calls as well. We were shocked to find that of the ten shelters in our county alone, three would not allow us to come because of my teenage boys. The rest couldn't get off the phone fast enough once they heard the perpetrator was a police officer. We then tried three other counties — again we were turned away because he's a police officer.
Why is so different for us, the partners of cops forced to find shelter, to find safety from those sworn to protect? Do shelters ask other victims the professions of their abusers, then turn them away if they don't like what they do for a living? Are shelter staff afraid of what he and his friends will do when they find out a shelter is harboring a "Police Family"?
Where does my family fit into the protection of the law? Same place we fit in at the shelter. Nowhere!
Back to top