Dear Friends,
This has been a year old healing. A little over a year ago… January 24, 2008 I wrote a blog that celebrated a year of life. A year since I was almost killed in my home. The day that I wrote that, on the one year anniversary of the day it happened I swore that I would remember that day each year. Almost a “go to the church and light a candle” kind of memory.
Last night, I looked at Eric and with a smile on my face I asked him if he noticed anything. Eric, being Eric just looked at me and was clueless. I have to confess that in reality he should have been clueless… that was the point. Yesterday was the last day of February …. not January 24. I guess that what I took several sentences to say is that January 24 came and went without me or the kids even thinking about my past life. Instead of celebrating (and I use the word celebrating in a weird way) another year of healing…. I am celebrating not remembering. Not focusing on it.
I don’t like to talk about “what happened”. I don’t like to bring up “what happened”. I feel like we are to the place where people are just happy when they get through a conversation with me without me bringing “it” up. You know what, that is okay. It is okay for people not to want to hear/read about the bad things that have happened to me. It is also important though that I talk about what happened. When I talk about it, someone out there may become aware and keep from putting themselves into a position that I put myself into.
January 24, 2007
I can home like any other day. The kids were here and we were working on homework, just being a family. Jeff came home from work, he was late… another thing that was normal. When we came up the stairs he looked funny. I tried for a long time to decide what exactly looked odd about him, but all that I know for sure is that it was his eyes that didn’t look quiet right. They were too big… they looked wild. He was angry, he wanted to know why supper wasn’t ready and on the table. He was demanding an explanation for my failing him as a wife.
He sent the children to their rooms to get their shoes on. He was going to take them out to eat since their bad mom hadn’t cooked supper yet. I am not sure what started the next chain of events…. it may have been that it was obvious he wasn’t taking me to supper…. it may have been the look in those eyes that didn’t look quiet right.
I had my cell phone in my hand, and tried to be very sneaky and call my parents. They didn’t answer the phone. He noticed what I was doing and took my phone from me. He was so far gone that taking it wasn’t good enough, he took my cell phone and tore it into about 10 pieces. I guess that he had to make sure that I couldn’t call anyone… ever. That is when this weird situation, turned really scary.
I grew up pretty sheltered. My parents always told me that everyone wasn’t good, I don’t think that I ever really believed them until that night.
After the cell phone was in pieces, I got really angry. I became indignant (what normal person wouldn’t), and I started yelling at him. I told him (my husband of 13 years) that he wasn’t alright. I told him that something was wrong with him and that I wasn’t letting him leave with our kids. I told him that he would thank me for it later. That is when he started hitting me. I am not a violent person, and I had never in my life been in a fist fight. I had never had someone hit me with the intent of hurting me. Jeff, through the years had shown extreme anger… and he had “hit at” me, but I had never experienced anything where I was afraid for my life. Jeff didn’t hit and walk away. He hit and he hit and he hit. There was blood everywhere… on me… on my carpet… on the walls.
I didn’t know where the kids were. The house was a blur. The kids were exactly where God intended them to be, they were safe. Jordan had locked himself in my bedroom when Jeff told him to go put on his shoes. This little 7 year old boy had realized what I hadn’t (not really). He had realized that we were in danger. When the violence started, Jordan got a cell phone and called 911. He told them exactly what was happening. The call went something along the lines “my daddy is trying to kill my mommy, please send lots of big policemen… fast”. They told him to hide in his room under the bed until the police came. They didn’t realize that he is a very literal child. Jordan was in my room, but the policeman told him to hide under HIS bed. He decided that he had to cross the hall and get to his room. Meagan about the same time decided that she had to help me. She didn’t know the police were coming, but knew that if Jeff didn’t stop he would kill me. She ran out of her room and down the hall past where we were (she is a track star and very fast). She started throwing furniture around in the den… and Jeff took the bait. When the coast was clear, Jordan opened the door and ran across the hall to his room, he slammed and locked the door. The slamming door was enough of a distraction that our attacker stopped looking for Meg and came after Jordan.
Jeff attacked Jordan’s door with a force that splintered the door facing from top to bottom. At this point, I was useless. I could do nothing to protect my children. Meagan, being the brave child that she is ran down the hall and launched herself at her father. Meagan had always been a daddy’s girl, so I know that this alone broke her heart. She jumped and landed on his back. He started hitting her and banging her against the wall. In the end, she was banged up and had a cracked rib. This distraction allowed Jordan to run out of his room and out the front door to safety. He hid at a neighbors house until it was safe to come home.
Soon after Jordan’s escape to safety, the police arrived. Within minutes of their arrival, I was sitting in the front yard bleeding and scared. Jordan and Meagan looked shell shocked. Jeff was on the front porch trying to talk football with the police.
He spent four days in jail, followed up with a plea bargain and 4 more months in jail. He pled guilty, but has first offender status. If he follows all the rules, in 15 years he will have a clean record. My kids will never lose the vision of watching their father try to kill their mother.
We will never know exactly what happened to cause Jeff to do this. He says that his medication was messed up. I don’t know. I know that he had struggled with his temper for years. I do know that in 15 minutes he ruined his life and his relationship with the kids.
I share this, not for your pity. I share this to provide knowledge to those who are like me and trust everyone blindly. I share this to try and keep one family from going through what we have gone through.
Sincerely yours,
Julie Beavers
Posted by Julie Beavers 
Posted by Julie Beavers 
Posted by Julie Beavers 