Apparently Joanne was arguing with Dad at the check-in counter about his overweight luggage. “Well I still don’t know why you have to bring that stupid gun with you. It’s not like you’re going to need it in England!”
“How many times have I told you this is not just a gun?” he muttered irately. “It’s a very old Winchester rifle. It’s a collector’s dream – and it’s worth a small fortune. I’m not leaving it behind!”
“Totally ridiculous! You can send for it with the other stuff later!”
“Joanne, this is worth a lot of money which we could need! So I’m taking it!”
They continued to argue at the check-in counter until they were asked about the long case Dad was holding.
“It’s an 1876 Winchester rifle. A special collector’s piece.... Theodor Roosevelt had one of these.... and look here ... it can’t be fired....”
“I’m sorry, Sir, but there are regulations governing the transportation of weapons, even collectors’ ones. You will have to go and sort it all out over there.” The hostess called for Security and Dad was led away to obtain clearance for the weapon.
It turned out that the airport security needed to check on the gun licence before he could take it out of the country. He didn’t have one and from there, they found out about the pending court case. They alerted the police who arrived and arrested him for trying to “jump bail and flee the country.”
So they were going to England and leaving me behind. Nice family. Now he has to stay in jail till the next time this goes to court. I wish I could have seen Joanne’s face. I can just imagine her going ballistic. Well at least it wasn’t Matron and Miriam’s fault that Dad got caught since they couldn’t get hold of the cops. But in truth it all makes me pretty miserable.
I wonder what things are going to be like for him in jail?
Chapter 23
“A false witness will not go unpunished
And he who pours out lies will not go free.”
Proverbs 19:5
Friday 16 February 1990
I spent part of my Christmas holidays with Megan and Aunty Leah and some time with Mom. Anthony is living with Mom now. But surprise, surprise! Mom doesn’t want me. She says they don’t have enough money for both of us as well as their other kids. I know they’re poor compared to Dad but it still really hurts to know your own mother doesn’t want you.
This week they are holding the proper court case. I’m not allowed to go. Mr Rogers has interviewed me so many times now and he knows everything. He wrote it all down in about a hundred pages of his big thick file. He says he’s so disgusted with my father and his lawyer. He gets really angry when we talk about what my father has done to me. He says I’ve been through enough and he doesn’t want me in court.
In a way I’m angry. There are so many things I didn’t say or ask my dad at the last hearing and I’d like to tell him how I feel. I want to make sure he knows how much I suffered when he was abusing me. Part of me wants to see him embarrassed in front of the magistrate. Mr Rogers says I have a right to be furious with Dad. But I know I’d just end up crying again and it wouldn’t work out.
I still don’t like thinking of him in jail, even though what he did to me was so vile.
Miriam says I’ll probably have to go to a children’s home to live. She says it will be just like boarding school but of course I won’t go home in the holidays. That’s a relief. But what did I ever really do to Mom?
I spent last weekend at Miriam’s house. She and her husband are very kind people.
Wednesday 21 February 1990
The court case has been on this week but Miriam hasn’t been to see me. Megan said there was an article in the paper, so I went downstairs to the lounge and borrowed both the papers. I’m going to stick them in here. I hope I don’t get into trouble for cutting up the papers, but they are about me.
Dad gets 7 years for incest with daughter
“A 39 year-old father of four stood in the dock blinking back tears as he was sentenced to seven years imprisonment for committing incest with his daughter since the time she was thirteen...he was sentenced by Mr R Brownlee to a further three years imprisonment suspended for five years and he was ordered to pay a large sum of money towards the psychological rehabilitation of his daughter...
“….In passing sentence the Magistrate told the convict it was tragic that his ‘uncontrollable sexual lust had destroyed his own daughter and perhaps his whole family’….
“The Magistrate recounted that a report read out to the Court described the girl, now 15, as withdrawn, tearful, fearful, confused and angry about her father’s actions. The report said she was in need of long-term therapy to repair the damage done by the betrayal of her trust in her father…”
They called his crime “disgusting and heinous.” Further down in the report they had written something that made me mad, as they had the time frame wrong. I read it again. It was definitely incorrect!
“The Magistrate told the man that if the abuse had begun a few months earlier when his daughter was 12, he would have been convicted of rape. In that case, ‘I would not have hesitated to impose the maximum sentence in my jurisdiction’...”I had been twelve when it all started! It was before my thirteenth birthday. No-one would ever forget their age, their rage, and their pain when it first happened. But I was not in court to set the record straight and I guess Dad and his lawyer were able to bend the truth and lie again.
The way the magistrate – and therefore the law, differentiated the terms ‘rape’ and ‘incest’ based on age still enrages me. Dad got off far more lightly because they must have convinced the court that I was thirteen when he began molesting me! But even if I had been thirteen, how would that have made it less painful for me?
Another paper described the case, saying:
“The magistrate said the man had turned his daughter into a ‘psychological mess’ whose only salvation was in long-term psychological treatment. His attitude towards the victim was simply heinous. An aggravating factor was the court’s strong suspicion that the man intended to take the rest of the family overseas and leave his daughter in South Africa.”
So, they thought I was a psychological mess?
Well they were right!
When Miriam came to visit me after the case, I told her, distraughtly, “My friends at school all laughed and said it served him right. But I feel so guilty.”
“Jane,” she patiently explained. “In life we have choices and all our choices have consequences. Jail was the consequence of what your father did. He was a grown man. He broke the law and harmed you.”
“But why jail? Seven years is a long time.”
“In law, sentences are often meant to be harsh to deter people – to stop them doing crimes in the first place.”
“Did he know this could happen?”
“Of course! Jane, he’s an educated, intelligent man. Let me re-read you something from the one article in the paper. ‘An earlier psychological report of the convicted man’s mental state said he was of ‘above average intelligence’, but suffered from an ‘anti-social personality disorder’ that caused mood swings, periodic violence and his sexually deviant behaviour.’ Do you know what that means, Jane?”
“Not entirely.”
“Jane, your father was interviewed by psychologists; these are highly educated men and women who try to understand people’s behaviour. They have worked with many other people like him. They said there was nothing wrong with your dad’s brain. It wasn’t that he didn’t know he was doing wrong. He did know. He just didn’t care. He knew the difference between right and wrong but he chose wrong because it gave him pleasure. He had no right to have sex with you, not ever. Not even if you liked it.…”
“But I didn’t like it … I told him I felt bad and dirty and sore…”
“Exactly! But some men are gentle and able to make it feel good for their victims. Even then, it’s still power mongering and bullying and wrong. When he was doing it he didn’t ca
re what it was doing to you. He liked it! That is anti-social behaviour, Jane.”
I nodded numbly.
“Your Dad was a married man with a wife. He should have fulfilled his sexual needs with his wife, not his daughter. He knew that having sex with his daughter was illegal. That’s why he lied to you and told you it was okay. That’s why he threatened you and told you to keep it a secret. He knew he was committing a crime. Sex with your child is against the law in almost every country in the world and certainly in this country. No man is allowed to force a girl into sex. Ever! He chose to do the crime. Now he has to face the consequences. It’s not your decision, Jane. It’s the law of the country and you’re not to blame.... The law is there to protect people like you!”
“But if I never told, he wouldn’t be in jail now. I broke my promise. So it is my fault.”
“No Jane. It’s never the child’s fault. Children are taught to say ‘yes’ to adults. They’re taught not to argue. Your Dad is much bigger than you. He hit you when you didn’t listen. He beat you with a belt for trying to tell. He made you promise to keep secrets that were wrong. Joanne was also wrong because she turned a blind eye to it.”
“Now my brother’s mad at me. Anthony phoned and shouted at me. He said I was a stupid liar and now our Dad’s going to jail and it’s all my fault.”
Miriam hugged me and said, “No, Jane! No! Anthony wasn’t affected like you, but he’s also hurting because he’s ashamed of having a Dad in jail and he feels sorry for Dad. He thinks your Dad is innocent. His emotions are real and understandable but he’s wrong. It’s not your fault.”
“He said I should’ve kept my big mouth shut and nothing would have happened to Dad. He said our family’s now all bust up because of me…”
“Lots of girls do exactly that! They stay in the home and keep on getting abused because they’re afraid of breaking up the family. But a family is only good if it’s protecting the children, not if it’s abusing them. If this isn’t stopped now, your trauma will just go on till you leave home and then he’ll probably start on one of your little sisters. Or even your brother! That’s the pattern we see over and over. You had to speak out Jane, first for your own sake but also for your little sisters ... and for Anthony!”
The story isn’t over!
Look out for the conclusion to this two-part story :
Redeemed
Kiss of the Wolf Spider, Part 2
Jane has broken out of the web of family abuse that was destroying her but alone and unready to make her way in an adult world, she finds herself drawn progressively deeper into the psychological torment of self-harm.
Can Jane rise from the ashes of hatred and despair? Can she ever learn to forgive, to love herself or to trust again? And is the handsome stranger who buys her a drink someone to beware of – or befriend?
The satisfying conclusion to this two-part story of betrayal, love, and redemption will keep you turning the pages as you will Jane on towards that second chance.
Read an excerpt from Redeemed now.
Redeemed
Chapter 1
“The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down…
and sustains the fatherless…
but he frustrates the ways of the wicked”.
Psalm 146: 8, 9
Tuesday 13 November 1990
It’s hard to believe I’ve already been at Mill Park High and living in Sun Valley Children’s Home nearly a year. Sun Valley is a lot like the boarding school hostel but not as nice. The paint is older and the school is not as smart as St Catherine’s.
I’ve made some friends here and we also have house parents and boarder masters but there are a lot of strange things going on in this place.
I’ve seen kids, (well teenagers actually), sleeping together. Of course it’s against the rules but they still do it. Then I found out that even one of our hostel masters, Mr Lang (the one I fancied and kissed once) – was sleeping with three of the girls in the dorm upstairs!!! (Not all at the same time). Our house parents, Uncle John and Aunty Maureen found out too. The girls were in terrible trouble and of course Mr Lang was fired. One of the girls, Sunette, tried to kill herself using pills. She was in hospital for ages.
Everybody here in the home is confused and hurting. Some of the other girls have also been abused or deserted by their families. One girl, Kay uses weird make-up and dresses in black with chains. She’s cut her wrists and taken overdoses. I think her cutting is also to vent the anger and clean the dirt. I don’t think she really wants to die although everyone else thinks it’s attempted suicide. She needs a lot of help.
Taking an overdose like Sunette is pretty stupid. No-one here feels sorry for you. They laugh and say, “Next time, do it properly.”
Mrs Byrne, my psychologist says I have to make a pact with myself to stop hurting myself. She just doesn’t get it! I only do it when I get really angry – like when I’ve had a session with her and she’s forced me to think all over again about Dad. Afterwards I want to scratch my hands or cut my legs with the razor. Or I hit my head on the wall or pull my hair. The blood and sharp pain help me feel better. Sometimes I just want to punish myself. It’s like – well – everyone else hurts you so why can’t you hurt yourself? I know it sounds crazy but it seems to release the tension or anger and provides a temporary relief from the emotional pain. I often stop myself but now and again I just have to do it. Then of course it’s followed by guilt and that can trigger a vicious circle.
Miriam told me my lawyer made a civil case against my Dad. Mr Rogers sued for damages and won. She said she thinks it’s the first time it has happened in this country and will lead the way for many other victims to sue the perpetrator. The result was that my Dad had to pay the courts a pile of money for my psychological treatment to help me get over what he did to me. Miriam thinks he offered it in the hope of getting a lighter sentence, but anyway, she said it’s an important landmark in legal history.
There have been other improvements too like not nearly as many tears these days. I’m now sixteen – not really a kid anymore – though in many ways I still feel like one, but I have to grow up. As Miriam says, I’m on my own now – my parents are not around to tell me what to do and I have to make my own choices in life.
I have a friend from my new school called Debbie Barker. Her parents have become my host parents. I’m permitted to go to the Barkers’ farm at weekends and it’s so pretty there. We get to ride the horses – although I’ll never be good like Wendy (my hero from when I was young). I’m actually very nervous of horses. But Debbie’s dad keeps mine on a lead-rein and that helps. We also ride an old motor-bike on the farm (which I prefer) and we occasionally get to drive the tractor. Riding the bike sometimes reminds me of when I was younger – and then I miss my brother, but that’s in the past.
Debbie has two younger sisters. They’re a very nice family and they go to a small church near their farm. I do still pray but not as much as before. If I go to church with them I feel better, but I’m not sure God’s that interested in me. I still feel so full of sin.
When I’m with the Barkers, I want so badly to be rid of my past and to live for Jesus but I’m not sure how. I know I called on Him all the time when I was being troubled by my dad but now…I’m confused. I guess in some ways I still blame God for my horrible childhood. I suppose that’s wrong of me and I guess God might punish me. I don’t know.
Wednesday 13 February 1991
Guess what? I have a boyfriend now. We are in the same school. Isn’t that exciting! His name is Tyler Armstrong, Ty for short. He’s a year older than me. I’m going out to visit with his family this weekend. It’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. I’ve bought him a card and chocolates and a Brut spray deo. It smells so good. I’ll save the ‘prezzies’ for when I see him at the weekend.
That Friday after school, Tyler came with his mother to collect me from the home. I remember dressing up in jeans, a pale pink floral tee-shirt and a pink necklace and matching ear-rings that
Miriam had given me for my birthday in November. I felt pretty and feminine and my pink top looked good against my tanned skin.
I tucked the valentine gift into my barrel bag to give Tyler at home. My heart beat slightly faster as I walked out to the car. I hadn’t met his parents before and I was to spend a whole weekend with the family. What if they didn’t like me?
I needn’t have worried. Their pale yellow house, decked with climbing purple trumpet flowers and cascading marmalade bushes was as welcoming as they were and I immediately fell in love with Hannah, their brown and white springer spaniel. She looked at me with doe eyes and licked me with a soppy pink tongue so the love affair was mutual.
Mrs Armstrong had made up the guest room for me with ‘girl-colours’ and on the dressing table was a new box of tissues and lavender soap, a chocolate bar and a small vase of assorted flowers from the garden. I was overwhelmed by the unfamiliar soft feminine touch and the feeling of being welcome somewhere.
We had the most delicious roast meal and a pudding that made me wish I was a big eater. Ty’s family chattered easily, laughed at our stories about school and listened to some of my tales from the children’s home.
Whenever I looked at Tyler, he smiled at me and that night after supper I gave him his gifts. He kissed me very lightly on my lips and gave me a small bottle of Babe, his favourite fragrance.
Later, Mrs Armstrong hugged me when she said goodnight and I recall thanking God as I drifted into dreamland.
The Armstrong home proved to be a sanctuary for me over the years that followed, and eventually they even became known to me as ‘Mom’ and ‘Dad’ Armstrong. Tyler was the only child they still had at home. Their elder son, Keagan, was studying for his Master’s degree in Jakarta and they had lost a daughter, pre-birth, somewhere between the two boys. I often wondered if losing her was the reason they showered me with so much love, or whether it was just because of the people they were.
Unspoken - Kiss of the Wolf Spider, Part I Page 13
