Parole Protest 2018… Here We Go Again

Carl Edward Chambers is up for parole again.  I don’t think there’s a lot ‘new’ to say.   He should never walk free. Period.   I understand the asinine rules of mandatory release that the state of TX didn’t think through when they allowed for first degree felons to be freed, even if on parole/”supervision”.  Repeat offenders and those who have caused bodily harm to another human being have no business being among law abiding citizens.  They lost that right with their CALCULATED  DECISIONS to hurt others.    The State of TX is complicit with what happened to me.  All they can do now is keep Chambers contained like the animal he is.

1.  He plea bargained to a 60 year sentence, and is not due for mandatory release (again) YET.   It’s time he does ONE thing positive, and complete his incarceration (as much as possible with “mandatory-freedom-to-hurt-more-innocent-people” still in play with this case).   He’s already botched one round of mandatory release, so why give him the chance to hurt someone else?   THAT is my primary reason for continuing to protest his release.   My life is trashed, and I’ve made sure I have plenty of options for defending myself.   He was very calculated with what he did to me, even stealing my address and phone number from the sister he was staying with, in order to target me.   I can’t be the only woman who reminds him of his first wife…. that’s what I was told- I looked like her.   I’m fairly standard-issue…. overweight, brown/gray haired middle-aged white woman.   Lots of targets in the ‘free world’.

2.  EVERY time he’s been on parole, he’s committed a more violent crime.   Murder is the only thing off of his resumé, that we know of.   Why give him the opportunity?

3.  I’m getting older, and have multiple medical issues, to the point of being disabled for over a decade.   Because of the severity of what Chambers (I refer to him as Numbnuts) did to me, NOBODY else has touched me.  I can’t stand the thought of being ‘handled’ and violated.  The sensation of having another human’s body heat and breath near me is nauseating.   So, I know I’ll die alone.   When I was younger, I always envisioned a life with a husband and house full of kids.   Normal. Happy.  Fun.  LOVE.

4.   My parents are both gone now, but they suffered in knowing what had happened to me.  My dad read the very graphic police statement I gave, when they visited  just  a few months after it happened.  There is always collateral damage when someone violates another human being.  My folks didn’t deserve to have to deal with what happened to me.  They lived 1200 miles away, and I didn’t want them to come initially since there was so much going on with statements, meeting with various legal folks and the rape crisis volunteer, etc.  I encouraged them to talk to their pastor, or even friends… but my mom’s close co-worker at the time took me to dinner the next time I flew home, and asked if I’d been raped- she had watched changes in my mom, and mom wasn’t talking about it.

Initially, my mom just wanted to know if I was pregnant, and I was- but thankfully the spawned little bastard fell into the toilet at about 10-12 weeks after the rape.  I’d never had sex before, so I know ‘what ‘ it belonged to.  I wanted nothing to do with it, but struggled with abortion.  I am adopted, so didn’t want to go that route… so when the cramping started that morning that I’ll never forget, I was SO relieved to see that mass of %50 sociopathic DNA swirl away forever.   Had I gone the adoption route, what could I ever have told that kid if he/she came looking for me ?  How could I ever have spun the tale to make that kid feel like he/she wasn’t one big fat felonious mistake?   And I wouldn’t lie to an adoptee who simply wants the truth about his/her ‘roots’.    That was the only baby I ever ‘carried’…. the impact of the wine cooler bottle that Chambers rammed up my vagina for many, many minutes tore uterine ligaments…. think about that.  What kind of force is required to rip internal, unseen ligaments?    I could not have raised that ‘thing’ without prejudice, and that would have been unforgivable on my part to do to a child.  SO, the toilet ‘delivery’ was a blessing.   And still traumatic.  Rape….the crime that keeps on giving.

5.  The person I was before January 10, 1987 is DEAD.  “She” died the minute I knew what was going on… the knife at my neck, and threats to kill me repeatedly did the job.  My body may have survived, but my dreams of a  husband and kids of my own was gone. For good.   I avoided having time available during ‘normal’ social times like weekends and daylight.   I worked a lot of nights and weekends for a nice excuse to never be alone on a date.   My view of the world was mutated to see ‘plausible risk’ everywhere.  I’ve managed to not be paranoid, but I know that safety is never a guarantee, and nobody really ever knows what someone else is capable of.  That is my worldview post-rape.   There is no ‘safe’.

6.    He still owes me a ‘why?’ answer.   He could easily send it through the Board of Pardons and Parole and it would be forwarded to me.  The lack of any sort of explanation tells me that he would do it again in a heartbeat, and has no remorse.   Just another day for him.  S.O.P.  for Numbnuts.   I used to have ‘revenge fantasies’ early on, involving a vegetable peeler, and Numbnuts restrained in a chair for me to ‘peel’ the part of him that hurt the most.  It’s been years since I imagined that, as revenge isn’t  ‘me’.  But it was a way to cope for a while early on.  Now, I just want what I asked for with the plea bargain.   Sixty years.  No more, no less.  He’ll be in the TX DOCJ system until he’s at least 88 years old.  He’s nearly 60 now- and there is nothing about being 60 that makes him less of a risk.  Last time he was out, he had a lawn-mowing business (enabling him to be alone with homeowners any time he was ‘mowing the lawn’).   How was that idea approved?   He even moved while on “intense” supervision.  So intense he moved without anybody knowing.   Seriously?  That’s “intense” supervision?   I was told he would have an ankle GPS monitor and have to give detailed daily activity plans to his parole officer.   I guess “moving today” didn’t make the list.    Convict + secrets = more crime.

7.    Last go around with parole, he had obviously lied his way into the life of some woman with no self-esteem,  and she married him.  WHILE IN PRISON FOR RAPING  AND BEATING ME.    He’s still manipulating women.  Couldn’t have been honest about what he’d done- or she’s just nuts and passively suicidal.    Her grandsons wrote notes on Chambers’ behalf that sounded like someone with an 8th grade education had dictated them.    I guess Numbnuts was allowed around kids because he opted for adults to violate.   NO WAY I’d let any kid I had be around someone like Numbnuts.  Same idea as letting John Wayne Gacy be a Boy Scout Leader.  Just not a good idea.

8.  I’m a lot more angry now than I was years ago.  Mostly it reflects the isolation and no family of my own.   Had I not been raped, I would have had a shot at “normal”.   Chambers killed me.  He killed my dreams. He killed my belief that most people are good. He killed my ability to feel whole.  He killed any desire to be physically close to another person.  He tormented my parents.   He impregnated me and caused weeks of torment until the spawn was flushed.   He’s shown no remorse that I’ve ever heard about (but he’s a sociopath, so not expecting much there).

Geez… just thought of this.  For  8 years more than half of my life, I’ve been a rape survivor.   Still dealing with the aftermath of someone who CHOSE to make his life useless and cause irreparable damage to mine.   My life stopped at age 23.  And yet 31 years later, I’m still having to justify keeping my “killer” locked up.

 

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The Weird Thing About PTSD

I was raped, sodomized, and beaten for six hours back in January 1987.  Twenty-eight years ago.  Initially, I knew what I “should” feel like, but didn’t really register much.  But that wasn’t really anything new- I’d been pretty good about not registering specific feelings for a long time.  As I’ve gotten older, and had more life experiences, the specific emotions have become much more identifiable.  And unpleasant.  I’ve been through enough therapy to recognize specific feelings, as well as have a greater understanding of what others go through who have been in similar situations.  And sometimes, not so similar situations.  Those can be triggers as well.

I had never been much of a crier.  I’d boo hoo once in a while, but for the most part, I could suck things up and move on.  That has changed.  Some of that is from a good thing: I’ve been able to understand how other people feel with both good and bad events.   That has been a huge ‘plus’ in so many ways, but it also makes my own memories and reactions that much more intense.  I’m a regular faucet now whenever there’s anything that remotely sets off my own memories.  Doesn’t even have to be all that similar.  Just has to trigger a feeling of some sort.

With another parole protest going on, I’m even more on edge.  For the most part, my daily functioning is ‘normal’.  Movies and TV shows can be really tough.  The news stories can be absolutely grueling.  I feel SO badly for those who are violated and/or lose a significant part of their life.   I have to ‘pace’ my exposure to the news.  With TV and movies, I generally have seen most of the episodes before from several series, so know to ‘brace’ myself during specific scenes… but sometimes even that doesn’t work so well.   In one episode of “Law & Order: SVU”, ‘Olivia’ walks out into the squad room after having been held hostage by a serial rapist/stalker who takes her out of the city to a seasonal house (that doesn’t belong to him).  She beats the snot out of him, and has to make a statement.  When she walks out into the squad room, it brings up all sorts of feelings of when I had to walk out of the apartment of my neighbor, after being raped.  There were news stations/cameras and people lining the sidewalk, and looking at me.  One of them lowered her camera, and looked down- giving me the first bit of dignity after that life-changing event.  When ‘Olivia’ walks through that group of people, it stirs up so much.

Some would argue that watching such shows as “Law & Order: SVU” and “Criminal Minds” are poor choices given my background, but I disagree.   In those shows, they show as much as they can about the impact that crime has on the survivors (I hate the term ‘victim’) and, they get the bad guy in 48 minutes.  The good guys win.  There are characters that include the ‘collateral damage’ of crimes against individuals.  And sometimes, the shows are hard to watch.  But it was much harder to live through an event that would be a plausible story line for those shows.

I’ve been much more ‘tender’ this time around with the parole protest.  I’m getting so tired of them, but at the same time, I feel responsible to keep fighting to keep him locked up.   He doesn’t deserve to be out. He agreed to a 60 year sentence in a plea bargain.    He offends EVERY time he’s on parole. Since he was 18 years old, parole is just another opportunity to rack up more ‘victims’.  I’m angry that the woman he attacked prior to attacking me just blew off sentencing.  Had she made sure he got as much time as possible, I wouldn’t have been raped.   I don’t want that same burden on my shoulders.  I may not be able to control the decisions of the parole board, but I am involved.  If they let him out, it’s on them.

In the meantime, I have to talk myself down now and then.  And sometimes, I have to just let myself cry and feel whatever is going on.  On good days, I write.  And every day, I have to remember how much I have to be thankful for.   PTSD isn’t something that gradually resolves in a predictable manner.  It comes and goes when the triggers set something off that is associated with some memory or feeling.  It doesn’t have to make sense.  It just is.

 

2015… Another Parole Hearing for Numbnuts

Here we go again.  The numbnuts (does he deserve a human term?) who raped, sodomized, and beat me for 6 hours in 1987 is up for parole… again.  The same numbnuts who has been on parole at least 5 times since he was 18 years old, and NEVER got off parole before offending again, with increasingly more violent crimes.  He’d been out for less than 40 days when he raped me.  SO what other reasons could I have that I haven’t  stated before, for keeping him behind bars for at least another few years?

Carl Edward Chambers TDCJ # 453210 Convicted rapist

Carl Edward Chambers
TDCJ # 453210
Convicted rapist

I want him in prison for my own peace of mind.  There.  I said it.  Maybe it’s selfish, but that Saturday morning in January 1987 changed my life forever.    I don’t want revenge- I want the sentence he agreed to when HE changed his plea mid-trial, and said he was guilty.  He agreed to a 60 year sentence, and he’s proven repeatedly that he can’t function on parole.  He does something to get back ‘in’. Every. Single. Time.   I realize that there are mandatory release dates- and he’s already blown through one of those.  He will reoffend eventually if he’s let out- and at what cost?

I protest his release because of what he’s capable of doing to someone else.   He’s 56 years old now, and I have no doubt that he still  has the strength to repeat what he did to me, and possibly ‘finish’ what he started, and actually kill someone.   I have no doubt that he would have killed me had I not escaped.  He’d talked about it, and ‘acted out’ dismembering me.  I knew his name, where he was staying, his sister’s name (it was her baby I was taking care of that even put me on his radar- before he stole my address and phone number from her purse, and hunted me specifically- I looked like his first wife). He couldn’t leave me alive.  He plans and carries out his crimes.  His last victim before he attacked me (for whose crime he was on parole) said she would have fought harder for a better sentence if she’d known what he could do (he put a screwdriver to her neck at an Austin bus stop). That means he wouldn’t have been out of prison that Saturday morning, and I wouldn’t be writing this.  I do know what he can do, and I won’t just sit back and let him slink around the justice system without my presence ( if only on paper) being known.

I had always dreamed of having a husband and a bunch of kids.  January 10, 1987 changed all of that.  My first experience with sex was being brutally raped at 23 years old.  And it was my last.  I don’t want anybody that close to me.  I don’t want to smell someone’s breath in my face, or feel their sweat against my body.   I don’t want to be a body orifice for someone else’s ‘amusement’.  I don’t ever want to feel that pain again.  Numbnuts impregnated me. I had his offspring inside of me- but evidently it was defective, because after a lot of cramping one morning,  it fell out into the toilet about 10-12 weeks after the rape.  That’s a visual I can’t unsee… the tiny placenta and jagged edges of tissue sitting in the toilet.  I didn’t want that baby, but it was still a baby.  The only one I’d ever carry.  It was a blessing to lose it, since I couldn’t imagine any of the other alternatives.  But it added to the pain of the entire situation.

If he got out because I didn’t remind the parole board what he’d done to even BE in prison, and did something to someone else, I couldn’t live with myself.  I have to be active in this process, and yet I hate it.  I hate knowing that the date/year is coming up AGAIN, and I’ll have to think even more about that morning, and put something into words that will make some sort of impact on those who decide MY fate with his freedom… or hopefully, continued incarceration.  I shouldn’t even know about the parole process.  Nobody should.

I hate the word ‘victim’.  I was a victim while he was hovering over me, beating me, fucking me (it wasn’t  sex;  it was a brutal, vulgar act- I don’t use that word lightly), sodomizing me, and holding a knife to my neck.  Or spine.  He had me get on my hands and knees when he peed, and used one hand to trace the knife along my spine.  But when I got away from him and got to the phone in my neighbor’s apartment to call 911, I became a survivor.  Or at least I had the chance to be a survivor.  It took a while to actually morph into someone who wasn’t defined by what happened that day.  It took a lot of work.   When the parole reviews come up, I feel that ‘victim’ thing all over again, and that makes me feel like I’ve failed at surviving.  But in the end, he doesn’t define me.  He changed a LOT in my life that day, and in many ways my future was murdered.  At least the one I’d dreamed about.  But Carl Edward Chambers, career criminal, doesn’t. Define. Me.

I was able to have a good nursing career until 2004 (and very briefly in 2005) when I became permanently, physically disabled. Twenty years. Too short, but it still mattered.   That was what defined me.  It still does, even this many years after having to stop work.  I will always be an RN, and even though I’ll never use it again, I keep my license active.  I don’t want to say I was an RN.   I AM an RN.  I was raped, but I am a nurse.  I’m a daughter, cousin, niece, and friend.   I was never a wife, mother, or grandmother.   He took that.  But he didn’t take the things that really made my life mean something.  I was able to help people, and show some compassion.  I have been able to answer questions for family and friends who were facing medical challenges or terminal illnesses, and needed someone who they felt was a reliable resource during those chaotic and painful  times in their lives.  That is what defines me.  My mission has been, since the decision to go to nursing school, to be useful to others.  He didn’t change that.

I believe that things happen for a reason.   I also believe that I don’t always have to make sense of the reason… that God has it figured out.  But just maybe He allowed me to be raped because I won’t sit back and do nothing about his parole reviews. Maybe I can help keep someone else from knowing what this is like.  Maybe that is my purpose in this.  The rest is up to those who vote on numbnuts’ parole  status.   At least I know I did what I could.  Sometimes, that has to be enough, but I hope with all I am that his parole is denied.

Rape Reporting… If You Want Justice, You Must Participate and Report It !

This week,  an article about a famous individual who was raped many, many years ago and opted not to report it showed up online.  It came up during a radio interview, and the one who was raped moved the conversation along, not dwelling on it, or even bringing it up intentionally, to begin with.  Then the online comments started flowing about how hard it is to report rape, how bad rape victims are treated, blah, blah, blah.  But, these folks also seem to know  that they’d be treated horribly, even though they never came forward.  That, along with someone who was beating a dead horse, and more of a troll than anything else (I’ll call her ‘Inot’), really got to my belief that if someone wants something to change in their life, or a part of their life, they have to show up and contribute to the process.  For rape, that means going to the police and doing the rape kit at a hospital.

*For the purposes of this blog, I’m referring to females, but there are a LOT of  reported and unreported cases of male rape.  The stigma is even worse for them.  I still encourage them to report the rape/assault to the police, and seek justice.

*My main points refer to “general” rape (stranger/acquainance), one-time attack- which can be minutes to weeks in length (or longer- look at Elizabeth Smart and Jaycee Dugard).

Justice isn’t passive; it requires participation.  Being a survivor, vs. a victim, takes work.  The victim mentality is absolutely repulsive to me.  I don’t have sympathy for those who won’t take part in their own recovery and justice process.  Staying mired in the traumas of the past is as good as that person’s life will ever be- and that’s a choice. That isn’t the responsibility of the one who did the abusing- OR the justice system. That’s on the one who has to go on living.  It requires a lot of work to work through sexual assault and trauma recovery, but the alternative is to go around feeling defined by victimization, stuck in the memories of what happened.  Working through rape doesn’t mean the memories ever go away… it makes it so the attack isn’t the defining event in someone’s life.  Rape doesn’t define survivors.  It defines victims.  And survivors don’t use the rape to manipulate others- whether for pity, a means to be taken care of, or anything else that is age inappropriate, or indicative of regression to an earlier developmental stage.  It isn’t the focal point of the life of a survivor.

Once the man who raped me was no longer ‘in’ me, my survival and recovery were on me.  Not him. Not ‘the system’.  Not the courts.  Because no matter what happened, my life had to go on.  I’m an RN.  I’m a dog owner, a doll artist, a gemstone/mineral collector, a daughter, and many other things.  The rape was 6 hours of my life- that’s it.  With his imprisonment, I became the strong one.  He became the captive.  His parole protests are still hard, but I’m still the one who ‘won’. 

As I’ve blogged before, I was raped for 6 hours at knifepoint in 1987.  I managed to escape when numbnuts fell asleep after  exhausting, constant sexual assault and beating of me.  The police came and shot him in my bedroom, not killing him.  I went through the trial process, and long story short, he’s either in prison (as he is now), or on parole until 2047.  He’s my bitch now.  I showed up to make sure of that, and I was a 23 year old ‘kid’, who had no experience with being vocal about anything to do with sex, or crime.  I wasn’t brave, but I was determined.   I wouldn’t accept the lower number of years offered in the plea bargain that happened mid-trial after I’d testified after 2 hours.  I went ‘all out’ to get the maximum punishment possible.  I could sleep better at night knowing I did all I could to keep him off the streets- for myself, and whoever else he might have gone after, for as long as possible.  He has a very long list of convictions for progressively more violent crimes.

I was treated very well by the police, District Attorney’s office, judge, rape crisis personnel, detectives, people at the hospital, and pretty much everyone but my employer at the time (being off work as an RN is very much frowned upon, and they actually “encouraged my resignation” about 2 weeks before the trial, because I was distracted – ya think?- … so sweet of them).  My apartment complex also tried to bill me for the damage to the sliding glass door in my bedroom, as well as the carpet, from the shooting (bullet damage and blood).  Otherwise, the actual people in the legal process were extremely compassionate.   In 1987, in good-ol’-boy Texas.  And things are improving all the time..

For those who don’t report rape, that’s their decision.  I get it.  It’s not an easy thing to discuss, and while I disagree with that decision to let someone stay on the street to rape someone else, I know it’s  ultimately their  decision.  But then they have no room to whine about the system, or how rape victims are treated (since they have no clue).  IF someone wants ‘the system’ to treat rape victims better (but hasn’t gone through the process to actually know what that is), they have to show up and report what was done to them.  Show up or shut up.  Get some help in making that decision if needed. Rape crisis centers have hotlines, and trained folks to help with these things- they’re free, and available 24/7.

There are situations that make it more difficult to report…

For those who were raped by people in their families (no matter how often), or friends they’d known for a long time, it’s more difficult. I understand that.  I’d encourage them to report the situation as soon as possible.   Someone can call a local rape crisis center to find out where to go for kit collection, without naming names at the time, and to get some counseling for the violation aspect of what happened.

For children, it’s even more difficult- especially if they don’t tell their parent/ guardian because of threats or fear.  But if a parent knows about incest or non-familial sexual assault, it’s really not a favor to the child to try and pretend it didn’t happen (think future addict to numb the pain of the memories).  Rape crisis centers can also help with kids.  And if you know your kid was molested by someone you know, don’t make the kid see them socially.  I’m not sure what could make someone want contact with their child’s molester, but I’ve heard about it repeatedly.  That in itself is abuse, and continues the pain.

No matter when someone is sexually assaulted, their life changes.  If they don’t deal with it, it can become a chronic ‘victim mentality’, and the chances of meaningful recovery dwindle, and increase the risk of drug/alcohol addiction.  That healing process starts when someone seeks justice, and deals with the emotional and physical violation.  There are statutes of limitations on rape… it differs by state, as well as when it happened (i.e. if someone was raped as a child, but doesn’t disclose it until they’re 18, the clock starts then, I believe; each state is different there, as well).  But, at least for now, there comes a time when the rape can’t be prosecuted.  Better to deal with things sooner than later, whenever possible, before the choice is taken away in an already “powerless” situation.

For someone in a domestic violence situation, it’s even trickier.  There can be threats that are very real  if the victim has been physically injured before by the perpetrator.   My suggestion to someone in that situation would be to do as much documentation as possible, including photos, and keeping any clothing that they’re wearing in the photos, to at least have something if they report the crime later.  Having a trusted friend keep the evidence, so it’s not discovered by the perpetrator, might also be something to consider. Obviously, the best scenario is to get away from the abuser and report it immediately to police, for collection of evidence (rape kit) ASAP.   But, I understand that sadly there are  situations when someone’s safety after the rape might be even worse than during it.  Safety is always the priority.  Domestic violence shelters can be a resource, knowing that getting away is a delicate process.  They can offer support and advice.

The military and university campuses have notoriously been lousy at listening to someone who makes accusations of sexual assault.  They’re getting better, but it’s not great yet- but those who have been assaulted still need to TRY !  If you don’t do anything, you’ll get nothing in terms of help- or improvements in how cases are handled. 

The rape kit isn’t horrible.  It’s not painful- but does require some intrusive things that can be very hard after being violated.  But it’s one of the best ways to convict someone.  Now, with DNA, a rape kit can link other rapes, and get serial rapists off the streets (think if someone had done that and gotten your rapist convicted before he got to you).  Mostly, it’s swabbing the mouth, vulva, anal area, collecting hairs, trimming fingernails, and taking photos of any injuries.  That can be very daunting after something so traumatic, but it doesn’t take that long, and HELPS the police when a suspect is found.  It will prove what happened, in terms of the physical contact.  Knowing the purpose of the kit made it easier to tolerate for me.  There are backlogs of kits that haven’t been tested, but the more information someone has to give police (including the information in a rape kit), the faster they can find a suspect.  There are many states that are making rape kit testing more of a priority.    You might also be fingerprinted, to corroborate who touched what and when.  It’s not to make you ‘complicit’ in the rape, but to clarify what is going on with the evidence.  I had to do that, and it was just to see if my fingerprints were on some of the things used to penetrate me (they weren’t).  They must have the evidence to make sure the chance of conviction is as good as possible.

Dealing with the detectives was sort of hard for me initially, but not because of them.  It was only 6-7 hours after I’d gotten free, and I was still a little shocky.  But they made it as tolerable as possible, and had me come back the next day to finish when I was getting sort of punchy from being exhausted and overwhelmed. It required detailed descriptions of what happened. I talked with two male detectives, and that wasn’t an issue, as I knew they had a job to do. They were very professional, and I had a female friend or rape crisis volunteer with me.   It was not easy to talk about what happened.  My fervent belief that reporting rape is necessary isn’t in any way to say that it’s easy.   But for the type of justice I wanted  (lengthy imprisonment), it was what I had to do.  I had to know that I’d done all I could to prevent him from hurting someone else- and to keep him locked up for what he did to me.  He’d been on parole when he raped me, after being in prison for attacking someone at a bus stop with a screwdriver.  His violence was escalating.

As I’ve said in other blogs, it’s not a bad idea to have a mental plan of what you will do in the event you are attacked.  Survival is the first priority, and sometimes that means dealing with being violated.  I made it clear that I wasn’t consenting to anything, but complied purely to avoid physical injury.  I had to make a calculated decision when I escaped.  It took 6 hours for him to not have the knife at my neck or my body.  Even when he peed, he had me on all fours, tracing the blade on my spine.  You have to stay alive in order to survive.  Do whatever it takes to stay alive.

After an attack, the priority shifts to getting medical attention, and hopefully, reporting the rape, and participating in the legal process.  Have a mental list of who you would call in such a situation.  DO NOT wash or shower after the attack.  Save clothing and anything the attacker touched or left saliva on (even your face or other parts of your body).  If you are bleeding, take off the underwear you were wearing during the attack, and put it in a bag to take to the police/hospital. Put on clean underwear without washing/wiping your vulva/anus/ perineum (area between the anus and vulva), and a pad- not a tampon.  Do not brush your teeth.  If he kissed you, make sure you don’t wash those areas of your body.  They will be swabbed.  In short, don’t do anything that could remove body fluids before getting help.  You will have a chance to shower- as long as you want- after the exam.   It’s a small price to pay for increasing the odds of catching the jerk.  If a lot of things happened in your home, there is a chance that it will be sealed as a crime scene- so know where or who  you can stay with for a few days.  (I ended up with a friend/co-worker I trusted for a week).

Reporting rape can sound overwhelmingly frightening.  There have been stories of victims not being believed, stupid and hurtful things being said to them, and other dismissive and inappropriate actions.  That isn’t everywhere.  More education about sexual assault has been done in police departments for years.  I’m an example of someone who was treated very well, nearly 30 years ago.  Nobody deserves to be raped.  Everybody deserves justice- but that involves coming forward and reporting the assault.  It’s not easy, but in the end, there is such a sense of getting some sort of justice, and relief.   For those who choose not to report, for whatever reasons, please reconsider (for some, that means when it’s safe to do so).  If you don’t report, don’t complain about the way rape victims are treated, or ‘the system’.  Even if someone you know was treated badly, everyone is different- and every case is different (not to excuse being treated poorly at all- but it’s not a sure thing that it will be the same for you).  The only rape that applies to you is the one that happened to you. 

Rape victims stay stuck in the past in a self-defeating way.  Rape survivors work to put the rape in perspective, and don’t let the rape define who they are.

 

 

Open Letter to Rape Survivors

On the Texas Hill Country Facebook page, a flyer of a serial rape suspect in Austin, TX was shared.  This young man is wanted for questioning in EIGHT sexual assaults in Austin.  Those are the survivors who have come forward.  There is no word as to the possibility of any more women who haven’t come forward.  He happens to be Hispanic, is of relatively small stature for a man, and thin.  That became the focus of some comments.  If he’s so small, why didn’t the women just fight him off.   It doesn’t work that way. Sometimes, depending on how an attack starts, a survivor does have more options- but that’s not how it goes for everyone.

Nobody knows when someone is going to attack another person.  Otherwise, they’d be called appointments!!.  In my situation (he’s a scrawny white guy), I was targeted specifically, and an elaborate lie was fed to me, and being a naive 23 year old in 1987, I fell for it.   He had access to me and my apartment for the entire six hours he raped, sodomized, beat me, and used wine cooler bottles to penetrate me vaginally and rectally.  For six hours.  During that time, he had a knife to my neck or next to his hand the entire time- even when he had to go to the bathroom (he made me get down on all fours and traced the knife along my spine).  If I had to go to the bathroom, he kept the knife in the doorway of the bathroom .  This was long before cell phones.  I didn’t have a weapon.  And, he was dazed but just kept going, as if on drugs and had the stamina and force sufficient enough to let me know I’d die if I didn’t do what he said.  As the day went on, I knew I’d be murdered anyway- he couldn’t leave someone behind who knew his name, address, and family contact.  He traced the knife under my breast a few times and asked what I thought I’d look like if he cut it off…  At one point, after repeated insertion of the wine cooler bottle, he withdrew both of his arms from me, and they were covered with blood to his mid-forearm.

I babysat this guy’s infant nephew. He made up a story about me needing to come and get the baby as the baby’s dad had been in a car accident, and they needed me to watch the infant so they could deal with things at the hospital.  He called from a corner 7-11; I knew the sister with whom  he was staying didn’t have a phone.  NO red flags there.  I loved that baby, and immediately went to go get him.  More lies- but at the time I didn’t know that, and he had my weakness figured out- I would do anything to help the baby.  I had been raised to ‘help my neighbors’ and didn’t feel a ‘right’ to listen to my gut about not really knowing him.  I fell for his story hook, line, and sinker.  They’d bring the baby to my apartment later; they needed to hurry to the hospital, and wanted to know if he could wait for word on his sister’s boyfriend at my place. They’d pick him up there.

Long story short, after 6 hours, he passed out in my bed, and I had a way to escape; I grabbed a towel and ran after going to the bathroom, and walking back to the bedroom to be sure he was asleep. At that point, it was die then, die later, or actually escape. Minimal risk (that’s what you aim for- but sometimes you have to take more risk to stay alive).  Neighbors let me in to call 911, and then the police cars, helicopters (news and hospital), news station vans, radio stations, and neighbors showed up in force.  I was in the neighbors’ apartment by then (I’d only lived there for ten days- and met them the day before), and didn’t hear much after that. I was exhausted, and filing details away to be able to tell the detectives.  I never heard the shots fired by police, shooting him in my bedroom (had to clean up the blood later).  He didn’t die, so I had to get ready to go through the legal system.  The officers, detectives, and District Attorney’s office folks were all very nice to me.  Brenda Kennedy is now a Judge; she was the Assistant DA who handled ‘my’ case (I was a witness for the state of Texas).

Here’s what I want people to know.  If you are attacked, do what you have to do in order to get out alive.  In my case, that meant going through a LOT.  Torn uterine ligaments, a dislocated jaw, concussion, teeth through my bottom lip, pregnancy and miscarriage (I was a virgin; it was his kid), and emotional battering.  But I made it.  I made a conscious effort to keep track of details. I gave myself a job during the attack.  If you survive, you didn’t do anything ‘wrong’.  One thing I’ve heard several times and through several sources- never let someone take you to a secondary location. If you’re going to fight to the death, do it to avoid being moved. Look up some of these ‘attack survival tips’ online to be sure you have the information you need.

If you have access to a weapon and can get to it once the attack starts, use it.  Be careful when you go for a weapon if there’s a chance he could beat you to it.   Try to keep HIM calm, and do what you can to make yourself human to him (at the trial, my attacker listened to my testimony for 2 1/2 hours and changed his plea to guilty, saying he had no reason to believe I was lying; he got a 60 year sentence- I wouldn’t take less at the plea bargain since I knew it was the same as ‘life’ in terms of parole eligibility at that time- he’d be in for 1/3 before he’d be eligible for parole. He’ll be on parole or in prison until 2047).  He’s been out, and now back in… the woman who MARRIED him while he was serving the sentence for my rape got beat up by him. EVERY time he’s been out on parole he reoffends (since at least age 18, when the records show up; his sister said he’d been in trouble as a kid).  Hello?  The next mandatory release date is in 2033, I think. I’ve got a notebook full of paperwork on this mess.

If the guy who attacks you tells you to shut up, then shut up. Just get through it. You can second guess yourself for the rest of your life- but buy yourself another day however you need to do so.  If you’re dead, nothing will matter.

If it’s a ‘quick’ attack, call 911 as soon as you can, but do NOT take a shower- you NEED to have a rape kit exam done for evidence (don’t shower no matter how long it takes- I had to fake washing myself to preserve evidence when he forced me to shower with him- and evidence was still there in abundance).  It’s not a particularly painful exam- but it does make that feeling of being so vulnerable kick in.  It will be worth it in the end to have solid evidence to help the case, especially if police don’t have the ‘luxury’ of finding him in your bed, as in my case.  Don’t brush your teeth before going to the ER.  Save all clothing and panty liners or pads.  Yes- you will feel gross, and the exam is more emotionally invasive than physically painful.  But let the investigators get what they need to nail the bastard.  You may not be the first, and probably won’t be the last; help get him off the streets.

A violent rapist doesn’t have to be physically imposing.  A wimpy-looking twit can become very violent, and with that comes strength that doesn’t seem to match what you see.  That doesn’t mean you are pathetic for not flattening the guy- threats of death and visual or implied weapons are very powerful.  I had a 12 inch knife to my neck- I believed he’d kill me. He’d already slugged me a few times.  Listen to your gut.  Just get through it.

Take advantage of any counseling groups or services offered.  At first you might be sort of in shock or dazed. Or you may be fuming.  There’s no ‘right’ way to begin healing, but it is important that you don’t let the guy define who you are.  He took enough. YES, your life has to find a new normal.  Your friends, family, and co-workers who you decide to tell will be a bit weird around you- that’s not about you, it’s because they don’t want to upset you by asking the ‘wrong’ questions.  You can tell them what is OK to talk about.

You might not want to talk about it, but from my experience, making it something that was ‘out there’ took away a lot of its power over me. And nobody who is raped ‘asked for it’ or did anything wrong to get raped.  It’s about the defective thinking of the rapist.  You will have ups and downs.  That doesn’t mean your life will always be like that.  I was a mess in the beginning, and when the first parole hearing came up 22 years after sentencing (he had to finish serving out his time for a crime before mine that I hadn’t known the full details of, and since I was always willing to help the baby, I don’t know if my 23 year old brain would have done anything differently).  But, the more I can ‘get it out’, the less power it has.  Blogging has been very helpful- and people find this when they’re needing to read something from someone who has been there.

If people ask questions that imply that you didn’t do ‘enough’ to get out of the situation, blow them off- if you survived, you have done well.   Do what you need to do to feel as safe as you can- and if you feel like you’re getting to a really dark place, please reach out to someone (a crisis hotline, therapist, friend- someone).  It does get better.

If you read this before anything happens, and you live in a state with good self-protection gun laws, consider having one. Practice with it, and make it something you are comfortable using. Keep it somewhere safe, but accessible.  If you don’t have a weapon, consider self-protection classes.  Find other weapons (the leftover ends of sliding glass door tract rods that prevent it from being opened can be useful and easy to hide).  If tasers are legal, check those out.  Do whatever you can- but don’t beat yourself up if you ‘just’ survive by getting through it by having to put up with it.  If you’re alive, you did well.  YOU have nothing to be ashamed of.

If you want to leave comments, I will answer you- they will likely not show up until I read them unless you have a Word Press account…. but I will read and respond to comments…. this is a safe place; disrespect won’t be tolerated towards anybody who needs some support ❤

Numbnuts Had Parole Denied

I got a bit of good news this morning. Actually, it’s a lot of good news. The man who raped me was denied parole by the Texas Board of Pardons and Paroles yesterday. The next parole review will be August 2015 and I’ll be notified about 4 months before that so I can send my stack of reasons why he shouldn’t be let loose on a civilized society (well those of us who are civilized anyway). Again. I can ask friends and family to send another bunch of their reasons to keeping Carl Edward Chambers locked up. The next mandatory release date is in 20 years. He got a 60 year sentence, and because of the laws at the time of his sentencing, he has these ‘mandatory’ release dates. Until then, he gets ‘reviewed’ every three years.  I just get back into a routine of not thinking about him roaming the streets, and that possibility comes into play again.  He had to serve the first 20 years without any chance of parole, but after that it’s been a roller coaster.

I was a very young 23 year old in 1987 when the rape happened. I didn’t have a clue about evil people- or about people who were so damaged that they committed crimes like Chambers did.  There was little doubt among the officers who investigated the rape that murder was the goal that day.  I knew who he was, where he lived, and that he’d been in prison (the naive part of me didn’t have a clue why he’d been in prison, or what ‘Huntsville’ Texas prison really was- a farm for the worst of the worst). With me dead, he would have had access to everything in my apartment and my car. He would have been long gone by the time I’d been noticed missing. I was still off of work from a back injury, so it could have been a week or more.  Probably when I started to stink up the place, bothering the neighbors.

I fight to keep him locked up because of what he did to me (other blog posts go into more detail, and there are more details to come, in due time). But I also feel he should serve as much as he agreed to when he plead guilty part way through the trial. He heard me testify, and whoops- time to change his plea from not guilty to guilty.  How often does that  happen?  Then he agreed to the equivalent of a life sentence, or 60 years (I wouldn’t accept less than that in the plea bargain, and was ready to let the judge have at it). To me that either shows that he’s incredibly stupid, or there’s a shred of conscience in there somewhere.  His sister (mom of the baby I took care of, and how I was introduced to the monster) even testified on the side of the prosecution; she had told me that he’d always been the ‘black sheep’ of the family.  I’m thinking more along the lines of black heart. Cold. Hard.  She was a sweet kid with a baby.  She knew nothing about what he was capable of; his prior offenses were violent, but not to the point of actually physically hurting someone. He tore me up.

And yet, there’s also part of me that wonders what in the world happened to him to make him the way he turned out.  That’s not in any way condoning what he did, or making him less responsible. But I do wonder. The other siblings weren’t felons (at least then; no clue now- but the sister I knew was a sweet kid struggling to make a life for her baby).  I’ve forgiven him- again, that doesn’t erase culpability. It just keeps my life from being all about him, and how to get even.  There is no way for him to give me that day back, or undo what he did to me.  It’s in God’s hands…He’s got MUCH more at His disposal for punishment than I do.  Frees up my head not to be mad all the time.  Did Chambers alter my life forever? Yep.  But he can’t do anything to take it back.  An apology would be nice, but I don’t think I’d ever trust that it was genuine, so why bother?

I do wish I’d been taught that I had the right not to help someone who seemed potentially harmful, or gave me knots in my stomach.  I didn’t feel that I had that right- I was taught to help my neighbors, and ‘neighbors’ meant everyone.  I wasn’t taught to think through what I knew about someone (no matter how minimal) and base a safe decision on that.  That was a very hard lesson to learn- and it didn’t have to be that way.  Christian parents and youth leaders need to be teaching their charges that it’s OK to stay safe; it’s not a sin to avoid being assaulted or murdered. They need to know how  to identify potentially harmful situations.  God gave us brains; they need to be used.

Well, now I’m off the hook for another 31 months, until I get the next letter telling me the next review is coming.  And I’ll cry, and relive parts of the rape that get shelved periodically.  I’ll talk to another lead voter on the parole board (this one was very kind; I can’t imagine having that job). But I’m never really ‘done’ with the rape, or Chambers.  I never forget.  I never had the life I thought I’d have (married, kids, house with a dog… I did get the dog).  I never let anybody touch me after that, and was a virgin before (my beliefs are that sex comes after the wedding).  My life became abnormal.  I don’t think I’ve been all that abnormal, but  I missed a lot.  As I get older, that sinks in more.

But I still believe that it happened for a reason. I don’t believe God ‘made’ it happen, but it can be used for good.  I’m still figuring all of that out (so I’m a bit slow).  If it can’t be used to help someone else, then it’s for nothing. I can’t allow that- so I still muddle around in my own head, searching for ways to be of use through this. Chambers can’t win this one.  I can’t let him. He took enough without my permission…this is on me.

In This World We Will Have Trouble…. or “Ah, ah, ah, ah, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive…

John 16:33… “I have told you these things so that you may have peace. In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart!  I have overcome the world.” 

SO, what am I supposed to do, to 1) identify potential trouble, 2) protect myself from it, and 3) have practical ways to deal with what does happen?  

God gives me the ability to think. He gives me my intellect, judgement, discernment, and wisdom. But I have to use those things. Sometimes, especially when I’ve been  taught to give to others, help neighbors, and reach out to those in need, I can lose sight of something that is equally important- knowing when I am in trouble. Knowing when I am in danger, or when the evil of others is targeted against me is something I must pay attention to, and act on. God also gave me the ability to perceive danger.  I can’t shame myself into getting in harm’s way, because I’m afraid I won’t be perceived as a ‘good Christian’.  And younger adults don’t always have the life experience to discern ‘neighbor’ vs. ‘enemy’ when the boundaries are blurry… 

I was fairly new to Texas, and working as a nurse on a neurology/neurosurgery floor at night. During the day, I babysat a 6 month old baby from the next door apartment building. I was young (and had energy), and really enjoyed taking care of the baby, as well as my job. For the next 6 months, I had the little guy with me for 9 hours/day, 6 days/week. The baby’s mom and dad were younger than I was ( I was only 22 when I started watching “J”) and didn’t have much money.  Anyway, I usually used the money they gave me to get things for ‘J’. If it was raining, I’d drive his mom the three blocks to her work at the mall.  I was invested with this family, and really cared about the baby. 

Fast forward: I’d had a back injury, and been in the hospital. During that time, my coworkers moved my old apartment contents to a new place, as I was in traction. When I got out, I stopped by the old place, then went to ask the baby’s mom if she would be interested in cleaning my old place (my back was still tender), and I’d pay her- she agreed. At that time, she introduced me to her brother who had been recently released from prison (‘wrong place at the wrong time” was the story she was told), and I said hello- a very brief, generic introduction. We also agreed that I’d watch ‘J’ the next Saturday. 

Very early the next Saturday (about 4 a.m.) I got a call from the brother, asking if I could come over right away; the baby’s father had been in a car accident, and they needed someone to get the baby so they could go to the hospital. I jumped up and immediately got dressed and drove to the baby’s apartment.  I was met by the brother in the parking lot. He told me that the baby’s mom was talking to a friend, and was very upset- they’d bring the baby down in a few minutes. He went back, presumably to the apartment.  Long story short- he said they’d decided to take the baby with them, and would bring him back to my apartment later, at the time I was originally going to watch him. He asked if he could come back to my apartment since they didn’t have a phone to wait for news about  “E” (he’d called me from the corner convenience store). I knew they didn’t have a phone; it all sounded reasonable. But I didn’t know this guy, and knew he’d been in prison (for what, I wasn’t sure). BUT, I was supposed to help my neighbor. I took him back to my apartment.

I showed him where the phone was, and that there was soda in the refrigerator, and I went back to my room. The baby wasn’t going to be dropped off for several hours. I was a bit uneasy, and locked the door. I’d been out the night before, and got home late, so when I went to lie down, it didn’t take long to drift off. He said he was going to make some phone calls about the baby’s dad, and seemed fine being out in the living room with phone and phone book.  

I woke up a few minutes later with a knife at my neck.  I was threatened with death if I didn’t fully cooperate. He tied me up with the phone cord and packing tape, and for the next 6 hours, my life was torn upside-down.  He did things I’d never heard of, and beat me repeatedly. It was obvious that he couldn’t leave me alive since I knew who he was and where he lived- and if caught, he’d be back in prison to finish the first prison sentence, along with whatever he got for what he did to me.  

I should have listened to my ‘gut’ reaction to taking this relative stranger home with me. I should have required a face-to-face conversation with the baby’s mom, while I was still in my locked car in the parking lot in front of a busy road (before he got in the car).  I should have ‘run’ like crazy, but I was taught to help my neighbor. I wasn’t taught to think it through first.  And I wasn’t prepared to respond to someone who apparently needed my help, except to willingly give it. I should have had better skills to deal with this. 

During the time I was ‘stuck’, I kept looking for opportunities to escape. And I prayed a lot. He was never out of reach of the knife, until he finally passed out in my bed. I was bleeding, and got up to use the bathroom. I looked back at the bed, and he was still asleep. I grabbed a towel, and ran (as quietly as I could). I thought for sure he was behind me as I went down the stairs to the neighbors I’d met the day before (I’d only lived in that apartment for 10 days). Anyway, I called 911 from the neighbor’s phone (twice- first cop- a rookie- got beat up and thrown out of my apartment before backup was there- he beat up a cop).  When I ran, the risk was gone- die then, die later, or get out and get help. 

Police came, shot him in my bedroom, and every news station in town was there, as well as the hospital helicopter (for him) and an ambulance (for me). Officers were everywhere.  He didn’t die, had to go to trial, but he changed his plea to guilty after I testified for 2 1/2 hours, and I would only agree to a 60-year sentence (which at that time in Texas was the same as a life sentence in terms of parole possibility – the law changed a few months later to NOT require mandatory release after 1/3 of the time served, the rest of the time would be on parole…. he’d be under the department of justice ‘control’ until he’s 88 years old). It never ends, with parole hearings, he gets in trouble, goes to jail, gets out, gets in trouble again, and is currently in prison, awaiting a parole hearing. Keep in mind, he had been on parole for 38 days when he attacked me. Parole doesn’t work for people like him.  

I learned some very difficult, and late, lessons. 

I do NOT need to feel guilty for keeping myself safe. Am I supposed to help people?  Yep.  Am I supposed to be an idiot in the process? I don’t think so!  And helping  out of pride, just to end up tormented by evil won’t help either; I don’t think that’s what I was doing- I loved that baby. Proverbs 6:16-19 talks about things the Lord detests…not getting attacked by psychos isn’t on the list ! 

I should have asked to talk to someone I did know fairly well (his poor sister was so afraid I’d think she knew what he was up to- he’d planned the attack, and stole my address and phone number from her purse; she found out about it on the news after not being able to get in touch with me- I should have picked the baby up at 8 a.m.- and that’s the last thing she knew; she testified for the prosecution). If someone refuses to let me speak to someone I know, that’s a deal breaker.  And I never have the car doors unlocked while talking to someone I don’t know well enough to let IN the car. Ever. 

If something feels ‘wrong’, I should hit the road;  I can’t assume that being a Christian, and praying NOT to be attacked will result in being kept safe. Faith is crucial- but I can pretty well guarantee that the attacker isn’t being led by the Holy Spirit. I can only pray for my own faith, wisdom, and discernment,  and for the person to listen to reason and for God to intervene. But if they aren’t open to God, they’re not going to hear the Holy Spirit speak to them.  It might take some time and creative thinking… and having to deal with what they do to me to avoid getting killed until it IS safe to get away. I can recover from trauma; I can’t recover from murder.  I do believe God was with me that day. This man was determined to attack ME. He planned it and stole my address and phone number from his sister’s purse. I was the target. But God was still in control of the outcome. 

I need to know about surviving attacks, and what can prolong survivability. I’m responsible to educate myself now that I know what can happen.  In hindsight, I also help to educate others. And, I do feel that a big part of the church is NOT to directly address the possibility of these things happening to Christians.  Well, I can definitely say that nobody can ‘out-holy’ a sociopath. They simply don’t care. I needed to have more information about the real world. 

Know how to preserve evidence: Do not wash anything that has been touched or violated (especially yourself, even though the only thing you want to do is get ‘him’ off of you). For some reason (probably nursing school) I knew this was important, and it did save a lot of evidence. My attack was before DNA, but in today’s forensic world, what I did NOT wash off would have guaranteed a conviction. 

I need to have a set of requirements in place BEFORE I get into a  situation as to what warrants the ‘caution response’, or following through with that ‘gut feeling’ to get away from the situation. Staying alive is not a sin !!!  It is OK to apologize later for overreacting. Once I was attacked, I could never get that option back. I’d become a statistic. 

Proverbs 27: 12 “The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and suffer for it.”

My huge fear is that churches are sending Christian young people out into the world with the idea that every situation is going to be a way to show the sort of love that ‘one lays down his/her life’ for.  Please, make the conscious decision to teach kids and young adults to think about the consequences of their actions. The part of the brain that conceptualizes the longterm consequences for choices isn’t fully developed until age 25.  “Help your neighbor”, ‘be a good Samaritan’, and ‘do unto others’  need to have thought behind them as well as the actions.   I was ill prepared for what I faced after moving out on my own.  And, I paid a huge price.  The words ‘rape’, ‘sodomy’, and ‘aggravated sexual assault with a deadly weapon’ are horrible- but talking about them isn’t as bad as being the target of them.  Prepare the kids. Put discomfort aside, and teach them to listen not only to their hearts, but to their gut. ❤