Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story

by E. McNew

  When it was determined that there was nothing left to do at the hospital, we all headed toward their home. It was tragic walking into the living room, seeing all of the baby’s items as if he were still alive. We all thought that we were still hearing him cry, but it was more of a desperate yearning wish. Derrick called his parents to break the news. He made sure that his mother was sitting down knowing that she was going to be absolutely devastated. The Reverend stopped by to offer more support, and it was then that I realized how beautiful and meaningful words could be. "You just have to know, in your heart, that something as innocent and beautiful as your baby, is safe in heaven with God. There is no other place that he could be except for with our Lord." The day had gone by very slowly, and it was almost as if everything were in slow motion. It began to get dark outside, and shortly thereafter, a pair of police officers arrived to carry out their standard investigation. They asked for simple items, like the can of the baby's last formula that he ate, a diaper and the wipes that were used, and they asked to be led to the place where the baby was found unresponsive. They were only in the house for a few minutes, and they were very kind and compassionate to both Donnie and Casey. Derrick and I went home that night. We were both feeling sad and upset that we hadn't acted quicker. If we would have just listened to our intuition, he just may still be alive. He would be almost six years old today.

  Chapter 64

  The loss of the baby was so incredibly sad that it could never be put into words. In a way, it helped Derrick and I realize how lucky we were. We had gone through a horrible series of events, but at least we knew that we would see our baby again. Death is permanent. Donnie and Casie would have to live without ever seeing their son again. There were no second chance, tinge of hope, or ways around it. He was gone.

  We wanted to pitch in to plan his funeral, but the autopsy was taking so long that we couldn't even set a date. Donnie started to become angry that the detectives that wouldn't allow him to see his son's body. Their reasoning for this was because the autopsy was so extensive that it would probably be a traumatic site. My suspicion proved to be true when the detectives were suddenly asking Donnie, Casey, and her entire family to come in for individual interviews. That is when I immediately knew that there was more to the story. The detectives even contacted Derrick and I, asking if we would go for interviews. I blatantly refused, recalling the horrible days back in 2006. I was not about to offer information that I had no knowledge of, and from my experience, that is always what they wanted. They wanted an easy answer. They wanted to just close the case. We agreed to an interview, under specific circumstances. The only way that we would speak with them was if they came to our home and they agreed to leave if we asked them to.

  They respected our request and came to our house the next night. We told them all that we knew, all that we saw, and even all that we suspected. Derrick was in tears because he didn't want to believe that his brother could be responsible, but deep down inside, he knew that it was probably the truth. The detectives clearly saw how vulnerable he was. They used this as their opportunity to share some information about their findings. "Now, we understand that you are hurting. The last thing that we want to do is make it worse. However, there is some information that we feel is necessary that you know. We need you to think of anything and everything that you can remember about the days leading up to his death." We sat on the couch, giving the detective our full attention. "This baby did not die of SIDS. This was not an accidental death. We have proof, in pictures and reports, that this baby was murdered. He probably suffered for about eight hours before he died of asphyxiation. In our opinion, it is one of two people who are responsible. We do not believe that Casey is responsible." "I'm just trying to really process what you are saying right now. Can you prove this with photographs?" Derrick asked. "Yes, but I strongly advise you to not look at them. They are extremely disturbing, and it is one of those things that will most likely never leave your mind." "So exactly what kind of evidence do you guys have?" "Well, I'm not going to offer every single detail, but there were four bruises found on the back of the baby's head. They were about the size of a fingerprint. The baby had a bruise around his mouth in a circular shape, determined to be the shape of his pacifier. When you put that evidence together, it appears that his head was pushed down into his mattress until he was no longer breathing." I started to feel sick and diseased. Derrick’s face turned pale. I had a hard time figuring out when the detectives were actually telling the truth or if they were lying and trying to find some sort of evidence. But, in God's name, I couldn't find any reason why any person would fictitiously make such claims. He left and Derrick went back and forth trying to decide if he believed them or not. I could tell that he didn't believe them, but he was fighting it because he didn't want to believe them.

  Because we had been supporting Donnie and Casey since the day that the baby died, it was hard to just suddenly, 100% cut them off without being obvious that we were suspicious. A few days later, Casie, Donnie, and Casie's mom and her sister showed up unannounced. I was upstairs sleeping as usual, and Derrick was down stairs watching TV. I didn't mind that they were there, but I started to become annoyed and upset at the sound of Donnie’s voice. The way that he was laughing and joking almost convinced me that he could have been responsible for what happened to my daughter. I got dressed and walked outside without saying a word to anyone. I got on my phone and I called my mom crying because I was so frustrated and disgusted. My mom called Lilah, and Lilah actually offered to pick me up for lunch. While I was waiting for her to pull up, Casie’s mom came outside to talk to me. She could see that I was upset. She didn't have extensive knowledge over what happened to my daughters because I rarely spoke of it. I was trying to give her the information and somehow I hoped that she saw the connection between what happened to her grandson and the irony of what happened to my daughter, two years earlier. She didn't understand, and I can't blame her. I was mostly vague when I tried to explain. I thought it was nice of her, though, that she at least tried to talk to me. Lilah picked me up and she was really nice to me. I was surprised that she even came in the first place. She was on a positive affirmations kick, and she gave me some ideas of things I could say to myself every day to try and get through my living hell.

  When I got home later that day, everyone had left, and I explained to Donnie why I had to get away. I even explained to him my conflicting feelings over what happened to Zoe. He was understanding and compassionate. He then started to bring up things that were discussed when I was gone. Long story short, they were all blaming Marnie. I didn't know Marnie well enough to feel like I could form an opinion. It was easier for Derrick to go along with this belief, though. As the days went on, he allowed himself to completely believe this idea to be true. After all of the horrible fate, events and chaos, he allowed Donnie back into our lives on a regular basis. I was hurting for Casie, and I wanted to be there for her. It was extremely hard for me to stay neutral. Any time I thought about my daughter, a wave of fear would crash through me. The fact that I was probably in the same room as the person responsible gave me complete terror. I had to consistently make sure that I was stocked up on my anti-anxiety medication because I truly could not handle reality. I knew that Casie was struggling quietly in her own mind. I knew that she was confused and was unsure about what to think when it came to the death of her son. I had been struggling with a similar feeling for a few years at that point. Whenever we had time alone, I always brought it up to her, and I told her that I didn't know exactly how she felt, but I had a good idea. I wished that somehow her and I could just run away from these men. I found it odd that Donnie constantly wanted to stay in the home where the baby died, and Casie could not bear the thought of it. Casie frequently came over to our house to stay the night because it was just too hard for her. Donnie claimed that he did not want to leave the house because he felt like he was leaving his baby. The circumstances, and the relationships within the circumstances, were incredib
ly confusing and dynamic. The detectives eventually let up on interrogating Donnie and Casey, but we all knew that they were being watched. If they were being watched, that meant that Derrick and I were also being watched.

  Chapter 65

  The temperature began to drop as the holidays arrived. I got used to Derrick deciding to be around his brother, and once again, these people became normal. We all quickly gave up on life ever being happy and hopeful. Our best escape came in a small shiny rock. Crystal meth always came in to save the day. We were all empty and numb, and we didn't even care that we were most likely under a microscope. I was still on Probation, and I honestly didn't care. Going back to jail could have just been better than living as I was. I found myself praying a lot on a daily basis. Even when I was under the influence, I still prayed. A part of me felt guilty because I was high, but the other part of me wanted desperately to be saved. I told God that I trusted him, and I trusted that he would point me in the right direction if I allowed him too. I wanted to surrender, but I didn't know how.

  I knew that my addiction was worse than it had ever been before because I found myself frequently hallucinating and seeing things that weren't really there. They were extremely vivid and it terrified me. My only comfort was that I knew that what I was seeing was not really physically in the same location. It was just a hallucination. They frequently happened when I didn't expect them to. One of the worst hallucinations that I had was after I had been up for a few days. I approached the extra bedroom downstairs, because that's where I kept all of my clothes. It was late and I was exhausted, and I just wanted to put my pajamas on. The office was dark, and most of the lights were off. Derrick was sitting in the living room watching TV. I saw a very tall creature that resembled something which would be half man and half demon. It was about 7 feet tall, and it was wearing my pajama pants. He was standing in the entrance of the spare room. The reason that I thought it was so real was because I could see every single pattern in my plaid pants clearly. I panicked and would not go back into that room. I made Derrick do it, and I made him turn on the light. Other hallucinations were when my houseplants morphed into monsters with tiny little claws and when I thought a helicopter was circling our house, and I was definitely going to jail.

  After using such large quantities of meth and being awake for so long, the comedown was horrible. When we ran out of meth, the best thing to do was fall asleep. But it was nearly impossible to fall asleep with remnants of the drug left in my body. I became sick to my stomach, my mouth wouldn't stop watering, and I couldn't get comfortable, no matter how hard I tried. This was always the time when Derrick wanted to have sex. It was the worst time possible, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. I was afraid to refuse him because I knew that when he came down, he became extra angry and he had the potential to get violent. He always begged for a blow job, even though he knew that it wasn't going to happen. "It will gag me. If your wife puking on your dick is something that turns you on, then let's get started." He would finally drop it after whining like a baby. He always tried to bend me into a weird position that I just couldn't handle. I wasn't a damn yoga junkie, and it was almost as if he thought I was freaking Gumbie. I would complain and roll my eyes, and be thankful that I got it over with. I wondered if I was the only woman who saw this as a chore. With all of the stress that I carried on a daily basis, combined with my medication and flat out exhaustion, I never had any desire for sex. He never failed to remind me that any other girl would be, "begging." I rolled my eyes.

  I didn't even realize that Halloween had come until the day it arrived. I had nothing special planned and neither did Derrick. I had him go to the store to get a bag of candy just in case some of the neighborhood kids came by. I decided that I would celebrate the holiday with two 24-ounce beers. I found myself drinking more often these days. That is, only when I could get away with it. Derrick got really mad at me every time. There may be a few reasons behind this. It could be from the time that we were driving home from a dinner with friends at the casino, and I wanted to go to their house afterwards and he didn't. I was pretty wasted. When the turn came up on the highway that led to our friend's house, I turned the steering wheel in the direction that I wanted to go. I underestimated the power of a slight turn, and we flew off the side of the road and smashed into a stop sign. Derrick was in total shock and almost on the verge of tears. I immediately began apologizing and told him that I didn't think that would happen. I was super freaked out, and then I was afraid that we were going to get pulled over. Derrick had been drinking, too. We would both go to jail if we were caught. "I'm sorry, I promise I'll do whatever I can to make sure that your truck gets fixed. But right now you need to hurry up and back out and start driving!" He cranked the wheel and backed out of the dirt ditch we were in. The stop sign was completely demolished and laying flat on the ground like a pancake. When he got on the highway, he was still shaking in shock. I had to coach him, and my drunk, confident self was happy to take the lead. "You better step on it! Hurry up and get up to speed with the rest of the traffic. We are going to get caught if you don't!" As he sped up and got to the normal speed limit, we passed the intersection that we were supposed to be turning on. I didn't have my glasses on so I tried to turn us onto the road about fifty feet too soon. As we passed through the green light, I noticed a police car waiting on the right side of us. The car was waiting to turn left, in the direction that we had just crashed. There was still dirt flying up in the air. The rest of the 15-minute drive home completely sucked. I was convinced that the cops were going to catch us. We somehow got lucky.

  The other reason than that caused Derrick to hate me consuming alcohol even more is one that I am certainly not proud of. It's one of those tales that you hear and shake your head in disgust. You always know that you'll never be one of those girls. Well, when I got drunk, I wanted excitement. I wanted to break the rules and see what I could get away with it. I don't remember exactly how I ended up at his best friend house but I did. I was wasted and it was probably one in the morning. Derrick’s best friend ended up bending me over his truck in the garage of his house. It may have been my subconscious way of retaliating. Derrick had already slept with his best friend’s girlfriend, and it upset me more than I realized. Without getting into the dirty details, I was a definite slut for the night. For the record, this was before we were married. For the record today, I no longer consume alcohol.

  I was sitting on the couch bored out of my mind on Halloween night. Derrick smoked a bunch of pot that night and he fell asleep early. I was annoyed because I wanted to at least have some sort of excitement. It definitely wasn't going to happen. I chugged my beers as fast as I could, knowing that they would only give me a short buzz. I ate some snacks, and zoned to the TV. I forgot, again, that it was Halloween night, until I got a knock on my glass door. I picked up my bowl of candy and opened the sliding door. The person standing in front of me was definitely not a trick-or-treater. It was a big guy, probably about 6 feet tall. He was wearing a blue windbreaker jacket. It had gold letters painted on it that read PROBATION. My adrenaline kicked in, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been since I was slightly buzzed. The big Probation Officer welcomed himself into my house and waved in everybody else tagging along with him. They all marched in, and they found my can of beer sitting on the floor. Luckily it was sitting on the floor away from the couch that I was sitting on. It had become routine for me to always think of the little things that could possibly get me in trouble. "Whose beer is this?" "Oh, that was my husband. He drank it and fell asleep. He's upstairs." I responded. The Probation Officers were searching the crap out of my house, and they were all completely in awe over how nice the trailer was. It was in the crappiest neighborhood that you could think of, and it didn't look like anything special from the outside, but when you walked in, it was seriously like a mini castle. One of the nicer Probation Officers went upstairs to search. Derrick was asleep, and I became annoyed that he always seemed to be asleep when these peo
ple were trying to ruin my life. I was pretty nervous when the officer went upstairs, because I knew that Derrick had a bag of pot with him, but I didn't know exactly where he was hiding it. The officer came down the stairs and didn't announce any illegal findings. Somehow, they didn't even know that I had been drinking. I must have played it off pretty good.

  The time started to go by a little more quickly as I got into the routine of doing absolutely nothing, and pretty much wasting away. Derrick eased up on wanting to hang around with his brother. We still saw Donnie and Casie periodically, but it wasn't nearly as much as it had been before. I had come to the conclusion that Donnie was a horrible influence on his brother and horribly influenced every aspect of his brother's life. Derrick had actually become pleasant to be around. He treated me with decency and our fights were very infrequent. Before we knew it, Thanksgiving arrived. I wanted to have Thanksgiving at our house, and Donnie wanted to have Thanksgiving at his house. I didn't like going over to his house. It made me sad and it had negative energy. We couldn't agree, so I decided that I would just make a Thanksgiving dinner on the day before Thanksgiving. That way I could cook and make everything how I like it. I did just that, and it was amazing. On Thanksgiving Day, Derrick and I got dressed and ready to head over to their house. We initially had planned to simply go over there, watch football, eat dinner, and leave. We should have known better. When we arrived, there was a good dog and brandy, and the turkey was cooking in the oven. Donnie was acting like his usual erratic self, but I didn't think that he was actually using drugs this time. He appeared to be more drunk than high. Derrick and I hadn't used nearly as much as we normally did in the last month. This was probably because we stopped going over to his brother's house as often. We both knew that as long as we didn't allow ourselves to go anywhere near it we would be okay.