My Broken Pieces : Mending the Wounds from Sexual Abuse Through Faith, Family and Love (9781101990087)

by Rivera, Rosie

  The last to speak was Chiquis. She looked at her father and said, “Daddy, we didn’t have to get to this point. None of us wanted this. We just need you to acknowledge the fact that we are not liars. But now that we are here, I want you to know that I forgive you and that I love you.”

  When she spoke those words, I looked directly at Trino, thinking this was his moment to show some remorse; to show Chiquis he loved her. But the instant Chiquis said “I love you,” he just rolled his eyes and looked away.

  I could have killed him. How could he do that to his own daughter? And even if he didn’t care about her, how could he be so royally stupid to do that in front of the judge? My poor Chiquis, nothing could have been more hurtful to her, and you could see it written on her face. As much as she tried, she couldn’t win the love of her father. My heart sank and I said, “Lord, do what you have to do.”

  Superior Court Judge Joan Comparet-Cassani told everyone in attendance, “I’ve heard everything I need.” She stated that she considered child molestation among the three most horrendous crimes—just below murder and torture—and added, “To molest your own child is a betrayal of the worst kind.”

  Then she sentenced Jose Trinidad Marín to thirty-one years to life in prison without the possibility of parole. He was forty-three years old at the time, which meant he cannot be released until he is at least seventy-four years of age.

  The sounds of wailing from his family filled the courtroom as a beaten, dejected Trino was escorted back to jail.

  • • •

  Since his trial had been such a high-profile case and it involved child molestation, Trino was given extra protection in prison. Some inmates sent us messages to let us know that if Chay paid their families a certain amount of money, they would be willing to take Trino out. Chay was horrified and she of course said no.

  A few months into his incarceration, the Marín family contacted Jacqie to let her know that her father wanted to see her. He wanted her to come visit him in prison. Jacqie, whose heart was broken since the day her father picked up and vanished when she was eight years old, was excited at the prospect of seeing him. Understandably, she missed her dad and really wanted to go.

  Chay, true to her belief never to keep a father from his children, felt the timing was right. Regardless of what had happened, now that Tino was behind bars, she willing to let her kids have a relationship with their father. So she agreed, but with one condition: he had to see all three of his children. Trino’s response came back a few days later: he would see everyone except Chiquis.

  Once again, he broke her heart.

  Chay wasn’t about to let him get away with hurting her baby girl again. “If he doesn’t see all three of you, then he sees none of you.”

  The kids agreed, and to this day, they have not seen their father.

  • • •

  Life went on. With Trino sentenced and in jail, we all felt that we could finally close this chapter and move on. While the effect of Trino’s actions will always be a part of my life, the fact that there was justice did make a difference. I was able to put my demons to rest and I have been able to heal, forgive, and move on. I am adorned with justice and those are the best jewels. Yet everything I have lived through up until this moment is a part of who I am. Everything I have done, everything I have felt, everything I have received and experienced—everything has made me into the person I am today, and I finally like who I am.

  That’s why I’m not upset at God for the sexual abuse. Now, I’m at a point in my life where I can accept it and be thankful I became the person I am today. I know He didn’t allow it to happen. I know that we are in a fallen world where people make mistakes and people sin. The sexual abuse was Trino’s sin. Mine was having an abortion. Both Trino and I need forgiveness. We both need to repent. I still think my crime was bigger because I took a life while he didn’t. But I’ve forgiven myself and I’ve forgiven Trino—I know that God will help us find the purpose in what we have been given to live.

  As time passed and I thought more and more about these things, making sense of my innermost feelings, I felt the urge to unburden my heart to Trino. He had heard my courtroom testimony, but I still had things I wanted to tell him, so in early 2012 I decided to put my thoughts down on paper.

  Trino:

  Please do not tear this up! Please take the time to read it. I beg of you, for your sake and mine. I mean no harm; I just need to tell you the things that I have held in my heart for all of these years. I pray you keep reading. I went to the Paramount Swap Meet today and as I pulled into the parking lot, I felt an odd sensation in the pit of my stomach. An old familiar feeling washed over my being. My old friend Sadness joined me.

  As I walked down the rows and rows of merchandise for sale, I regressed further and further back into my childhood. I tried to think of all the beautiful memories I had of playing with my brothers, Lupe and Juan, or of my mom and dad working together and building an empire out of nothing . . . but, as usual, all my childhood memories led back to you.

  For eighteen years, from the age of eight to twenty-six, I thought of you every single day of my life. I do not believe there is another person in this world who has thought of you as much as I have.

  In good moments, when I feel strong, compassionate, and kind, I think of you. In bad moments, when I feel weak, ugly, and worthless, my thoughts are of you. Every time I hear the word sex, your face is in my mind. Today, I feel your spirit near me and sometimes I think I see you in other men.

  I have always wondered if you ever gave a thought to me, that young blond girl whose life you permanently scarred the summer of 1989. Have you ever taken three minutes to consider the effect you had on an innocent child and how the weight of the whole world fell on her shoulders?

  I have a hundred questions, but I have finally come to grips with the fact that I may never get the answers I desperately needed growing up. I can live with unanswered questions, but I refuse to live in this deafening silence. Finally, you will know what I have endured for so long. I have regained the voice you stole from me, and now I direct it back to you.

  Trino, I strongly believe God has confined you to the four walls of your prison so that you can no longer run away from me. You cannot ignore or hide from my thoughts, my feelings, and my truth. Our truth.

  As an eight-year-old girl chasing after her beloved older sister Chay, I loved you. I loved you as her husband. I thought of you as my older brother and I admired the deep passionate love she felt for you. My sister was, and is, my hero. She could do no wrong in my eyes. Chay was the smartest women I had ever met and if she chose you as a husband, then you had to be a good man. Right? I lived to please Chay and receive her love. Everything I did and said was to make her smile and laugh. If she loved you, so did I. If she defended you, I defended you. When she forgave you for hitting her, I forgave you as well. The pure heart of a child assumed that if she loved me, and you loved her, then you would love me also. Right?

  All I knew was love. Being the baby of my family meant all I received was love and protection. It was their duty to take care of me and love me; Daddy’s orders. I thought that everyone would, especially in my family. You were my sister’s husband and an older brother who would protect me. Wrong! I was dead wrong!

  The first recollection I have of you and my childhood was in Chiquis’s empty room inside the Carson, California, mobile home. Visiting Chay meant two great things: First, I got to spend time with my sister. And second, I did not have to go work at the hot, dirty swap meet. At every opportunity, I would choose to go to Chay’s and avoid the work.

  A dark blue rug and a worn-out San Marcos blanket were the furnishings of the room where Chiquis, my very first friend, and I were playing Barbies. Warm rays of sunshine streamed through the open window. I could smell the aroma of the meat sauce for Chay’s famous spaghetti and meatballs. It was my favorite dish and she made it for me anytime
I asked. Spaghetti has become the symbol for the day that destroyed my life.

  When Chiquis and I heard the screaming and cursing coming from the living room we were startled. Then I reminded her that you and Chay fought all the time and would make up any minute. Everything would be okay. She believed me as much as I believed it myself.

  The silence after the door slammed was new, so Chiquis and I decided to step outside the room and check out the battle zone. To my surprise you were in the kitchen and Chay was nowhere to be seen. Do you remember that I asked where Chay was and you calmly told me that she went to the store to buy something for dinner? You reassured us that everything would be fine and told us to go and play. Chiquis and I happily went back to our dolls and fantasy world.

  After a while, you entered the room and told Chiquis to leave. She began to protest, but you quickly yelled at her. I was startled and confused as to why Chiquis had to leave, but kept playing in silence. Once my little friend was gone, you told me to lie down on the blanket. I looked up at you, so big and tall, and wondered why.

  You kindly explained that we were going to play a new game. I liked games and was excited to learn something new and tell Chiquis all about it. You ordered me to close my eyes, lie down on the blanket, and put the Barbies aside.

  Never again would I view those dolls the same. The two blond Barbies were the only witnesses to the heinous crime that was about to follow me the rest of my life. I became as silent and frozen as they were. I became a eight-year-old human Barbie under your power and control.

  I was my sister’s first living doll but she never intended for me to be played with like this. I obeyed you, as my mother had taught me to always obey my elders. My world faded to black under my eyelids and under your touch. Your lips came close to my left ear as you whispered, “We are going to play that we love each other.” Love was my favorite thing in the world so I thought I would really enjoy this game.

  Confusion started to set in as your lips kissed my neck and your large hands came under the blanket and into my underwear. Just as you were lying next to me, Chiquis came in and asked a question that would haunt me for the rest of my youth. “Are you going to play with her the way you play with Mommy?”

  You yelled at Chiquis to get out and she quickly shut the door behind her. Now I was sure something was not right. How could you play the same game with me that you played with Chay? Would Chay be mad at me for playing her game? Why couldn’t Chiquis play too?

  I was terrified of hurting Chay and I opened my mouth to speak, but you told me not to worry—everything would be fine.

  Despite all the uncertainty, I trusted you and lay there as you touched me in places I had never before been touched. It seemed like an eternity, when suddenly you got up and left, never uttering a word.

  Love. That was love. Whatever had just happened meant you loved me and I loved you. I was scared and bewildered, but I knew I was loved. I could not wait for Chay to get back home.

  I do not remember eating the spaghetti or what time my older sister returned. I have no other memories of that day or any other day with you until the next time you wanted to play the “love game.”

  After these many years, I can still vividly recall details of the room, your breath, and Chiquis’s innocent face. I remember the confusion; it followed me for years to come. To this day, I wondered if you remembered that first encounter. I assume you have blocked it out to protect yourself from a guilty conscious.

  Maybe you have fooled your family, your lawyer, and even yourself that this never happened, but today as you read my words you can no longer hide from the truth. You touched my most private parts and robbed me of my innocence.

  Now as you read this in your prison cell, all alone, I want you to reflect on that little girl who would never, ever be the same. Remember her big brown eyes and bright smile, because after that first “love” encounter, they faded. You took them with you as you walked out of the room and left me alone and violated. I lost the game that day—and many more that were to follow.

  I am writing you my memory just in case you have tried to erase yours. May you think of me every single day as I have thought of you. We are connected, you and I, forever. Whether you loved me or not, I want you to know that as a child, I loved you. All is fair in love and war. Let’s see who wins.

  –Rosie

  I wanted Trino to understand that although I forgave him, I was never going to forget. I sent him my letter but I never received a reply. Even so, writing and sending it offered me a sense of peace. It allowed me to release the deep recesses of my soul and move on with my life. Yes, I had forgiven Trino and turned the justice over to God, but I prayed that somehow he would come face-to-face with the past—as a prerequisite for finding his own forgiveness.

  thirteen

  loving abel

  When my Kassey was about five years old, I began to pray that God would send a man into my life who understood the commitment I had made to Him and was walking down the same path.

  There were several guys at church who threw glances in my direction, but Pastor Pete advised, “Don’t rush the matter. Give it a couple of years. I feel that you are going to marry a man who has a heart for ministry.”

  Knowing how bad I was at choosing men, I decided to listen to my brother. After all, our brothers used to always say to Chay and me: “For two smart girls, you guys sure are lousy at picking men.” And given our track record up until that moment, I had to admit they were right!

  That didn’t stop me, however, from begging God every day for a loving husband. Eventually my luck had to turn; I knew it. I prayed, “Lord, I’m not good at choosing men, so please pick one for me—a person who will be good to my daughter and who will not hurt her.” And to prove to God how much I trusted Him and how much I believed He would send me the right man, I started saving up for my wedding. Every month I would put four hundred dollars aside as a way of showing God, and myself, how much I believed in my future now.

  Ever since I’d turned my life over to the Lord, I started to hang out with a new group of friends who were all members of the worship team at church. It wasn’t that I’d grown apart from my old friends; it was just that I was having such a good time exploring this new part of my life that I wanted to spend as much time as I could talking and thinking about the Lord. Plus, these were friends who like me didn’t drink, or smoke, or curse, so I didn’t even feel as if I had to give any explanations. And at this time, when I still had to make an effort to keep temptation at bay, it’s what felt right. I could simply be myself.

  In the group was a young man by the name of Abel Flores. I had met him early on when I started attending church again and we became friends. I liked him a lot but following Pastor Pete’s admonition, I stayed clear of any potential relationship.

  But sometimes things happen even when you specifically don’t want them to happen! One evening, when my friends and I had planned a get-together at a local restaurant, for one reason or another, everyone except Abel and me canceled at the last minute. I, for one, had no intention of changing my plans so I went ahead and called Abel and said, “It looks like it’s just you and me.”

  That night we wound up driving to Hollywood, walking down Sunset Strip, and having a great time laughing and talking. Abel and I went into Ripley’s Believe It or Not! and had a good time except when we came to the exhibit about death—reading about all sorts of weird ways in which people have died didn’t sit well with me. Right away Abel noticed I was uncomfortable so he grabbed my hand and took me to another room filled with life and light. Little did I know that later he would do that to my heart. It was one of those evenings where everything is so effortless and fun that time flies by and before you know it, it’s time to go home. When I dropped him off at his home that night, Abel commented, “Well, our little date is over. Now back to reality.”

  What he said really stuck with me, because whether I was re
ady to acknowledge it or not, deep down inside I was thinking the same thing. And I liked the idea that in his mind it had been a date. For the next few weeks, every time I was around him, I found myself getting butterflies, but I quickly reminded myself, Oh, no, not Abel—he’s just a friend.

  Yet as time went by, I found that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake those butterflies; in fact, I couldn’t really stop thinking about him whether we were in the same room or not. I looked forward to seeing him at church every week and whenever we planned one of our group outings, I’d find myself worrying about how I looked, what I was going to wear . . . all because I was thinking about Abel. I fought my own feelings for a long time until I realized that they weren’t going anywhere and I had to acknowledge to myself what was going on. I was falling for Abel. So instead of continuing the battle against my own heart, I decided to be honest and let him know what I was feeling, so I plucked up the courage and made my first move by texting him the words, “Hey, I think I like you.”

  I sent the message because I was almost certain that he didn’t like me and I knew he was the type of guy who would be honest and tell me the truth. As soon as he said he didn’t like me, I would be disappointed, of course, but at least I could move on and stop wasting time thinking about him.

  So I was bracing myself for a rejection when almost right away he texted me back saying: “I like you too.”

  Big sigh of relief. He liked me back! But also . . . Oh no, now what?

  Abel and I started dating soon thereafter and right from the start we got along incredibly well. Abel is a very gentle and loving man, he is wise beyond his years, and there’s something about him that always makes you feel at home and safe. And coming from my roller coaster of a love life, being around Abel was healing in ways I could have never imagined; it was the first time I was in a relationship where I actually felt good about myself. And not just from time to time. He made me feel good all the time. He was funny and loving and whenever we were together, I felt happy and cared for. And not only that, I really really liked him. How could I not? He was a hopeless romantic, serenading me at my window at four a.m., but also praying for me when I needed it most. He led me closer to God, which is what my spirit and soul needed most at the time. He was merciful like Jesus and told me my past was gone. He didn’t see it and he didn’t even want to know about it. To him, I was a new creation. He was a man who accepted me for who I am and that’s when I knew I wanted to marry him.