If It Was That Bad, You Would Have Called The Cops

I got a text message from my sister at 6am saying simply “I need to talk to you about mom.” I went into a full panic because my mom is 70 and in a horrifying abusive relationship with a man two decades her junior. My very first thought after I saw that text was that he had finally beaten her to death. I was a little panicked, but not emotional because frankly it is just a matter of time.

It was my sister calling not because she was dead, but to spitball ideas (again) about how to make her leave. We have everything set up, she has a place to go. All she needs to do is put the dogs in the car and drive west. My 24 year old will meet her and drive with her the 2000 miles to my sister’s house where she already has a room set up for her. There is a plan. She won’t leave though. She never has in the past. It’s been 3 or 4 years now that the plan has been in place. She just won’t leave. He has put her in the hospital and she has refused to press charges.

My mom has a history of this. One guy only left because I put him in prison after he called the cops on ME for stabbing him as we fought after he put her head through the wall. I fought him to protect her and just happened to have my carpet knife on me (I grew up in construction and had been laying tile all night). I was 16. The cops took one look at the hysterical 16 year old and the drunk 6’4” alcoholic and arrested him not me. The next time the cops were call regarding my mother it was because she was unconscious and in the ICU after another guy beat her. He went to prison and she took him back when he got out.

I had to explain to my sister there was nothing we can do that we haven’t already done. We need to accept the inevitable that she is going to die like that and wait for the phone call.

Calling the police is unheard of in my family. Hell, I didn’t even want to call 911 when my house was on fire. My then 15 year old actually called them. You just don’t do that. It’s only for emergencies and getting beaten half to death isn’t a good enough emergency.

During my divorce, my ex husband gave many excuses for every incident of violence. From me mouthing off to me being a “whore” when I was found alone, unconscious, and naked in a bedroom at a party. I think I was raped, but I don’t know.

Then there were the incidents he couldn’t explain away like when I was holding our newborn the day I came home after the c-section and had staples and he grabbed me by the throat and slammed my head into the wall repeatedly while I tried to protect my newborn baby. He was grumpy because I woke him up struggling to get out of bed to feed the baby. My mom was there and watched the whole thing. No one called the cops.

Then there were the public incidents, like when I made a joke about alimony and he chased me out of the fucking Olive Garden and beat the shit out of me in the parking lot. No one called the cops. No one tried to intervene. They never do.

I was told during the divorce proceedings that if it was that bad, I would have called the cops. I did once talk to them in the emergency room, but they said it was mutual combat because I had stabbed him in the leg with a screwdriver because he was on top of me and wailing on me. I always seem to stab them.

So, why didn’t I go to the cops when D raped me? Why didn’t anyone in the room call the cops? Why didn’t anyone who heard me screaming loudly with the window open call the cops? Why? Because people don’t do that.

I have had the gift of saving 3 lives in my life. My middle school teacher who had a heart attack, a kid who had been hit by a car, and a homeless man who OD’d. The first thing you will learn in any CPR or first aid class is assess the safety of the situation look at another person and clearly tell them to call 911 so you can focus on the aid. The thing is, in my experience, if you skip the step of telling someone to call 911, no one will actually do it. They will watch in horror, but not pick up a phone until you tell them to.

When D raped me and I sent the email, I didn’t even want to go to the cops when they called ME. His office had referred to video to the Capitol Police who are part of the Nevada State Police. I tried to talk them out of it. I gave every excuse not to go. They had to have the sergeant call me and talk me down to come see them. When I finally did, I asked why they called me and they said because it was a crime. I legitimately looked at this man and said “what crime?” He said sexual assault and then I asked a few times if they were sure that it was sexual assault. It felt like it. I said “no” a lot. I would have called it sexual assault if it was someone else. I did call it sexual assault in the email, but the crime part of it seemed to go over my head. I mean, yeah he raped me but it for some reason it baffled me that it was a crime to rape ME.

When I saved the kid who had been hit by a car, he regained consciousness and said “what happened?” And I told him he had been hit by a car but it was okay and said all the comforting things I could think of to a 11 year old. He replied “that doesn’t happen in real life.” And I said “yes, sugar, unfortunately it does but you’ll be okay.”

When D raped me, I was the kid saying “that doesn’t happen in real life.” It was impossible. That just doesn’t happen. But it did happen and it was horrifying. I knew I said no. I knew I was in pain. I knew, but for some reason I didn’t know. That statement actually seems to be the norm with most people. And those who gawk and whisper amongst each other about the horrors they are seeing, they know but they don’t. They don’t get involved. It’s not their place. They think someone else will take care of it. But nobody does.

This was little rambling today. I hope it made sense. I’m going to end on one of the things I am ashamed of in my life. I was on Fremont Street here in Las Vegas watching a band amongst a sea of people. I saw this woman and man and the man had his hand on the back of her neck pushing her through the crowd. She and I made eye contact. She was scared and I could see it. I started following them as they passed. He turned around and pulled up his pant leg to show me the gun he had strapped to his ankle and I backed down. I didn’t even think to call the police. I do wonder what happened to her that night. I am so angry at myself for not saving her from whatever she was about to endure. I can’t save everyone. And most of the time, I can’t save myself.