These are copies of three of my major speeches used to promote this
website and tell my story.
Eagle Project Speech
My name is Dune Mecartney and I’m here to share with you my experiences being failed by the institutions that are supposed to keep kids safe and protected.
I am 14 years old, and I live in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. I am a Boy Scout working on my eagle project. I play center and defensive end for my middle school football team. I enjoy baseball, tennis, pickle ball, and I ski and wrestle. I am also a golfer, and I have played on the Southwest Junior PGA Tour for 2 years. I am a straight A student, and I have taken 7 years of Latin. I am even starting to learn Greek this year. I have two giant dogs and I am an only child. I’ve grown up in a pretty comfortable home, in an affluent community. My parents are both educated and were successful in business.
From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like I’ve had an ideal lifestyle. Private school, vacation homes, regular trips to international destinations, and even flying in jets. We were all good at outward appearances. The dirty little secret that you don’t see, from the outside looking in, is that I am also a survivor of abuse and family violence.
My earliest memory is of my abuser, (let’s call him Mr. X), throwing things off the balcony at my mom and me. Mr. X liked to say that he’s a recovering alcoholic...maybe “recovering” is not quite the right term? He was very good at hiding, lying, making excuses and running away…and that wasn’t just about the drugs and alcohol, it was also about the violence. I witnessed his tantrums, mood swings, denial and abandonment. The pattern of explosive anger, emotional outbursts, screaming, yelling, and abuse, was usually followed by his disappearances, while my mother and I healed.
In an effort to save our family, my mom would eventually invite him back. He would show up with absolutely NO apologies, but with lots of little blue bags from Tiffany’s in hand. That was his standard cycle of chaos.
Sometimes he left for two or three days, other times he’d be gone for months on end. He was predictably unpredictable.
Over the years, I tried to get help from many different places. I was caught in a serious dilemma. The bind was that I didn’t want to get hurt anymore or to see my mom harmed, but I wanted to see if God would heal my family. I was like any other normal kid, who wanted their family to work things out and to see a miracle.
I started to realize that, maybe things were never going to work out, when Mr. X turned off the electricity in the middle of winter and burst the pipes at our house, cancelled the credit cards so we couldn’t get gas or groceries, and when the injuries started to get more severe. Another red flag was when Mr. X started isolating my mom and me from the rest of our friends, family and our world, even moving our house to more than 45 minutes away from town in a secluded area with no cell phone service.
I developed PTSD. I have panic attacks, regular nightmares, and I throw up and have horrible digestive issues around Mr. X. I became more scared as things escalated. I started to ask for help from my pastors, my grandparents, my friends, my doctors,my school, my therapists, the police and Department of Family Services and ultimately, when my mom finally filed for divorce, from my guardian ad litem and the judge.
I wrote numerous letters, with the help of my therapist, to the judge asking him to keep me safe and warning him that I fear for my life....these were suppressed by the guardian ad litem, who was supposed to represent MY best interests. I even filed an ethics charge against the GAL for not maintaining contact with me, her client, or presenting my statements to the judge.
I was shocked to discover that after telling so many people about what was going on, that almost nobody helped me and few believed me. I think people had a hard time accepting that a guy that wore a suit, flew an airplane, lived on a golf course and had a good business could hurt his family like that. Let me tell you from experience, abusers come from all walks of life and don’t always live in the ways the stereotype portrays them.
Mr. X counted on me being quiet and I kept that unspoken contract with him long enough. I had hoped he would change and things would get better, but when we got into a serious argument a few years ago, he tried to shut me up FOREVER. It was then, I realized, I was not going to cooperate with the covering up anymore.
I was going to use my voice and be heard. Ironically, that month would be the last conversation I ever wanted to have with him...I fear for my life, around him, because I know how far he’s gone. I’m not willing to risk my life around him. I’m not sure why other people are willing to gamble with my life?
Even with a restraining order, it seemed like no one wanted to step in and take a stand for me. The guardian ad litem, obviously under the influence of Mr. X, met for several hours PRIOR to me talking to two new therapists. One therapist told me she didn’t believe me, before I even told her what happened to me. After hearing my experience being strangled, she told me that it was my mom who was abusive for not paying better attention!
It seemed like Mr. X was trying to cut off my ability to even get psychological help from these doctors and he has tried desperately to get ahead of people and discredit me. It felt like I had no where to turn where he didn’t have influence. Corruption seems to have run rampant in my case.
I don’t understand why everyone tries so hard to reunite me with my abuser and remove me from the only stable parent I’ve ever known?
The reason that I have chosen to create a website, for children caught in the cycle of abuse, is to help them effectively report what’s going on, give tips on how to document abuse better and to give them access to tools that I didn’t have. I have a place on my website where kids can blog to each other and share experiences, trials and triumphs. I intend for my website to be an ever evolving site for additional information, articles and referral websites, as these are suggested and shared.
Knowledge and information IS power.
I want my website to be a resource for helping kids help THEMSELVES stay safe. I want my website to be able to provide education and support for other kids like me. I want to help teach other children about what abuse is, its many forms, how to keep yourself safe and how to get help when you need it and who to tell. I sure wish someone had shown me these things years ago.
I wish I had known what to do when my doctor called my therapist and together they discussed, in front of me, why they were not reporting the abuse, supposedly “to protect me from losing my home and not being put in foster care”. I wish I hadn’t trusted the judge, my guardian ad litem or the custody evaluator and therapists to protect me. My trust was totally violated when they tried to send me to some weird parental alienation camp, where I could be whisked away against my will, by private transport guards, and have custody reversed to my abuser.
It seemed like all of the folks who were supposed to protect me, didn’t...and that even included my mother, who has had to turn me over to my abuser after supervised visitations graduated to now unsupervised visits, under threat of being held in contempt of court.
The abuse in my home was horrific and I will have to deal with its haunting effects and consequences the rest of my life. The institutional abuse I experienced from the judge, the guardian ad litem, the custody evaluator, DFS, therapists and the corrupt system is what was preventable and is totally inexcusable.
Look, I am asking you to stand up for children like me, in whatever capacity you can. Let’s believe children when they tell you they are in danger, and follow through to make sure that they are protected and safe. Let’s make sure mandatory reporters actually report the abuse.
I am asking you to document, document, document.
I am asking you to recognize abuse comes from people in all shapes and sizes and economic groups. It’s physical, verbal, financial, psychological, sexual, cultural and institutional. This should not be about enabling abusive parents’ rights to access and further abuse their children. This should be about protecting children’s rights to grow up safely. Laws need to change.
STOP THE ABUSE! I’ve had enough already.
I am asking you to stand up for us...we need to have a voice and we deserve to have a choice!
Please go to my website at:
Www.safekidsus.com
Thank you.
My name is Dune Mecartney and I’m here to share with you my experiences being failed by the institutions that are supposed to keep kids safe and protected.
I am 14 years old, and I live in the snowy mountains of Wyoming. I am a Boy Scout working on my eagle project. I play center and defensive end for my middle school football team. I enjoy baseball, tennis, pickle ball, and I ski and wrestle. I am also a golfer, and I have played on the Southwest Junior PGA Tour for 2 years. I am a straight A student, and I have taken 7 years of Latin. I am even starting to learn Greek this year. I have two giant dogs and I am an only child. I’ve grown up in a pretty comfortable home, in an affluent community. My parents are both educated and were successful in business.
From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like I’ve had an ideal lifestyle. Private school, vacation homes, regular trips to international destinations, and even flying in jets. We were all good at outward appearances. The dirty little secret that you don’t see, from the outside looking in, is that I am also a survivor of abuse and family violence.
My earliest memory is of my abuser, (let’s call him Mr. X), throwing things off the balcony at my mom and me. Mr. X liked to say that he’s a recovering alcoholic...maybe “recovering” is not quite the right term? He was very good at hiding, lying, making excuses and running away…and that wasn’t just about the drugs and alcohol, it was also about the violence. I witnessed his tantrums, mood swings, denial and abandonment. The pattern of explosive anger, emotional outbursts, screaming, yelling, and abuse, was usually followed by his disappearances, while my mother and I healed.
In an effort to save our family, my mom would eventually invite him back. He would show up with absolutely NO apologies, but with lots of little blue bags from Tiffany’s in hand. That was his standard cycle of chaos.
Sometimes he left for two or three days, other times he’d be gone for months on end. He was predictably unpredictable.
Over the years, I tried to get help from many different places. I was caught in a serious dilemma. The bind was that I didn’t want to get hurt anymore or to see my mom harmed, but I wanted to see if God would heal my family. I was like any other normal kid, who wanted their family to work things out and to see a miracle.
I started to realize that, maybe things were never going to work out, when Mr. X turned off the electricity in the middle of winter and burst the pipes at our house, cancelled the credit cards so we couldn’t get gas or groceries, and when the injuries started to get more severe. Another red flag was when Mr. X started isolating my mom and me from the rest of our friends, family and our world, even moving our house to more than 45 minutes away from town in a secluded area with no cell phone service.
I developed PTSD. I have panic attacks, regular nightmares, and I throw up and have horrible digestive issues around Mr. X. I became more scared as things escalated. I started to ask for help from my pastors, my grandparents, my friends, my doctors,my school, my therapists, the police and Department of Family Services and ultimately, when my mom finally filed for divorce, from my guardian ad litem and the judge.
I wrote numerous letters, with the help of my therapist, to the judge asking him to keep me safe and warning him that I fear for my life....these were suppressed by the guardian ad litem, who was supposed to represent MY best interests. I even filed an ethics charge against the GAL for not maintaining contact with me, her client, or presenting my statements to the judge.
I was shocked to discover that after telling so many people about what was going on, that almost nobody helped me and few believed me. I think people had a hard time accepting that a guy that wore a suit, flew an airplane, lived on a golf course and had a good business could hurt his family like that. Let me tell you from experience, abusers come from all walks of life and don’t always live in the ways the stereotype portrays them.
Mr. X counted on me being quiet and I kept that unspoken contract with him long enough. I had hoped he would change and things would get better, but when we got into a serious argument a few years ago, he tried to shut me up FOREVER. It was then, I realized, I was not going to cooperate with the covering up anymore.
I was going to use my voice and be heard. Ironically, that month would be the last conversation I ever wanted to have with him...I fear for my life, around him, because I know how far he’s gone. I’m not willing to risk my life around him. I’m not sure why other people are willing to gamble with my life?
Even with a restraining order, it seemed like no one wanted to step in and take a stand for me. The guardian ad litem, obviously under the influence of Mr. X, met for several hours PRIOR to me talking to two new therapists. One therapist told me she didn’t believe me, before I even told her what happened to me. After hearing my experience being strangled, she told me that it was my mom who was abusive for not paying better attention!
It seemed like Mr. X was trying to cut off my ability to even get psychological help from these doctors and he has tried desperately to get ahead of people and discredit me. It felt like I had no where to turn where he didn’t have influence. Corruption seems to have run rampant in my case.
I don’t understand why everyone tries so hard to reunite me with my abuser and remove me from the only stable parent I’ve ever known?
The reason that I have chosen to create a website, for children caught in the cycle of abuse, is to help them effectively report what’s going on, give tips on how to document abuse better and to give them access to tools that I didn’t have. I have a place on my website where kids can blog to each other and share experiences, trials and triumphs. I intend for my website to be an ever evolving site for additional information, articles and referral websites, as these are suggested and shared.
Knowledge and information IS power.
I want my website to be a resource for helping kids help THEMSELVES stay safe. I want my website to be able to provide education and support for other kids like me. I want to help teach other children about what abuse is, its many forms, how to keep yourself safe and how to get help when you need it and who to tell. I sure wish someone had shown me these things years ago.
I wish I had known what to do when my doctor called my therapist and together they discussed, in front of me, why they were not reporting the abuse, supposedly “to protect me from losing my home and not being put in foster care”. I wish I hadn’t trusted the judge, my guardian ad litem or the custody evaluator and therapists to protect me. My trust was totally violated when they tried to send me to some weird parental alienation camp, where I could be whisked away against my will, by private transport guards, and have custody reversed to my abuser.
It seemed like all of the folks who were supposed to protect me, didn’t...and that even included my mother, who has had to turn me over to my abuser after supervised visitations graduated to now unsupervised visits, under threat of being held in contempt of court.
The abuse in my home was horrific and I will have to deal with its haunting effects and consequences the rest of my life. The institutional abuse I experienced from the judge, the guardian ad litem, the custody evaluator, DFS, therapists and the corrupt system is what was preventable and is totally inexcusable.
Look, I am asking you to stand up for children like me, in whatever capacity you can. Let’s believe children when they tell you they are in danger, and follow through to make sure that they are protected and safe. Let’s make sure mandatory reporters actually report the abuse.
I am asking you to document, document, document.
I am asking you to recognize abuse comes from people in all shapes and sizes and economic groups. It’s physical, verbal, financial, psychological, sexual, cultural and institutional. This should not be about enabling abusive parents’ rights to access and further abuse their children. This should be about protecting children’s rights to grow up safely. Laws need to change.
STOP THE ABUSE! I’ve had enough already.
I am asking you to stand up for us...we need to have a voice and we deserve to have a choice!
Please go to my website at:
Www.safekidsus.com
Thank you.
Original LA speech
My name is Dune Mecartney and I’m here to share with you my experiences being failed by the institutions that are supposed to keep kids safe and protected. I will tell you about the impact on my life of abuse and ways that people in mandatory reporting positions could have done their jobs better.
What happened to me can be likened to a horror show to which I didn’t buy a ticket for admission. Rather than dwelling on the gruesome acts of a madman, I’d rather focus on the consequences of the actions and talk about how I am still in the midst of escaping this nightmare and what emergency exits could have been better illuminated by the professionals. I refuse to give top billing to my abuser or to make him the star of my life, the issue of abuse,itself, is the most important.
Let me set the stage for my story. I am 14 years old, and I live in the snowy mountains of Wyoming in a small, remote town. I’ve grown up in a pretty comfortable home, in an affluent community. I am a good kid, working on my Boy Scout Eagle Project, an A student and involved in football, golf, tennis, baseball and skiing. My parents are both educated and were successful in business.
From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like I’ve had an ideal lifestyle. Private school, vacation home, regular trips to international destinations, and even flying in jets. We were all good at outward appearances. The dirty little secret that you don’t see, from the outside looking in, is that I am also a survivor of abuse and family violence.
One of the questions I was asked to address today was, what could have been done differently? Let me see if I can answer this question in some sort of order of appearance in my life.
First, there were therapists that tried to help my family to function despite abuse. I recounted my experiences and history to several therapists. None of them reported any of the abuse. They didn’t seem to help and they just gave my mom and me coping strategies. The fact that I have had a need for therapy since I was little should have been a red flag.
I remember being taught emotional management skills as early as kindergarten. I remember thinking that I had to be “good” so that I didn’t upset the family dynamic. I sometimes ask myself why the therapists didn’t sit my parents down and give them “emotional management strategies”? Why didn’t the therapists teach my mom boundaries for my safety, if not hers? Why didn’t the therapists question why my abuser only rarely showed up for these sessions?
Why didn’t the fear get addressed? I don’t know, I thought therapists were supposed to be good at human behavior, I mean, how many abusers actually confess? Why didn’t someone call this out? My therapists could have been the first to intervene, and I don’t understand why they chose not to stand up for me or take make a phone call and uphold their duty to report.
Meanwhile, the stomach disorder that I was born with, intensified with increasing stress and fear. I became a regular patient at Denver Children’s Hospital. When I was around my abuser, I would regularly vomit and have severe stomach distress.
I also have a history of sleep issues with recurrent nightmares. I have sought both psychological support and medical care to address the night terrors. I can’t tell you how many forms I’ve filled out at my pediatrician, my regular doctor, therapists,and Denver Children’s Hospital, and to my knowledge, none of what I’ve described was ever reported to the officials.
I even interrupted a regular doctor appointment my mom was having, with me in tow, and described an incident being kicked with golf cleats the day prior, and asked my mom’s doctor to take a look at my leg. She called my therapist right in front of me, and they had an open speaker call discussing why they decided that they would not report the incident. It was explained to my mom and me that the danger of reporting to DFS was that they could come into our home, do a report and put me in foster care for not removing me from the situation earlier in life.
So let’s talk more about the officials that have been involved in my case. The police failed me and could have put a stop to some of the abuse. They could have arrested my abuser when the restraining orders were violated instead of just giving him a verbal warning. Rules seem to bend for people in positions of power, and it’s just not fair to people like me. I’m a kid, with no power, why weren’t the police protecting me and my mom? Why does the system seem to benefit the abuser and not the abused? What about my safety?
We don’t fit the common conception of an abusive family profile. I challenge you all to throw out your stereotypes. Those preconceived notions of what abusers look like and where they live, actually cost me years fighting to be heard and protected. The person in a suit living in a golf community was certainly treated differently by the police when they came knocking on my door, as opposed to someone in a less fortunate situation. Violations of restraining orders were dealt with “courtesy phone calls” instead of an arrest. Social privileges and assumed admiration of a big house and luxury cars cost me protection from pain and prolonged suffering.
Another time the police failed me was after my mom took me to an unsupervised visitation. My abuser threatened me with bodily harm and told me to keep my mouth shut. I did just the opposite at pick up. I was getting tired of the threats and secrets and bribes to be quiet, and the hurt. I think my mom saw how shaken I was and I think she was starting to realize that I was in physical danger and it wasn’t just her problem. She took me right down to the Jackson police station. I told the officer what transpired, but he informed me that no “chargeable crime” had been committed. He could gave me a case number to record for the future, full well knowing this would not be the end.
Why is it a crime for a stranger to hurt and threaten me but not when a family member does the same thing? As far as I know, this incident at the police station was not ever reported to the Department of Family Services. It made me think that, maybe police were not really there to help and protect me...but maybe they were there to protect the rights of an abuser. Criminals seemed to be afforded better protection than me.
So let’s talk more about the role of the Department of Family Services. The therapists didn’t call them, the police didn’t call them, the doctors didn’t call them...and despite several sessions with my school counselors detailing the abuse in my home, my private Christian school didn’t call them. Eventually, my mom called DFS directly to ask for help.
I spent more than three hours at DFS describing the incidents growing up in my home. I told the man from DFS about what I had witnessed and what I had directly experienced. Although he had empathy, he was very clear that unless the physical damage was more severe, like a broken bone, he could do little without a videotape of the actual abuse in progress. Seriously? I had to come back in worse shape , is the message I that got, and no one could protect me.
Eventually, after several more meetings and interviews, DFS “suggested” parenting education classes for my abuser. DFS didn’t even mandate the classes. I sent the man from DFS a video from me, hysterical about his failure to protect me, because I knew that me speaking up, was going to escalate the violence against me.
What was my takeaway? I learned at an early age that I could not trust adults, and now I was learning that I couldn’t trust officials, either.
The man who perpetrated the abuse against me was predictably unpredictable and my mom eventually always invited him back to “save our family”. He’d walk back into our home like nothing had happened, with blue bags from Tiffany’s, but no apologies, just more broken promises. There seemed to be no black and white lines in my life, just a cycle of chaos with my abuser coming in and out of my home and disappearing for long periods of time.
I learned that patterns of coming and going were “normal” and that I could not depend on my abuser being there for me for school or sports or for even being calm and rational. It was like living in a hurricane with craziness swirling all around you and not realizing the occasional absence of the insanity was actually the deception of being inside the eye of the storm.
I witnessed and was on the receiving end of his tantrums, mood swings, denial and abandonment. The pattern of explosive anger, emotional outbursts, screaming, yelling, flying objects and abuse, was usually followed by his disappearances, while my mother and I healed, both physically and emotionally.
I was caught in a serious dilemma. The bind was that I didn’t want to get hurt anymore or to see my mom harmed, but there was a part of me that wanted to see if God would heal my family. I was like any other kid, who wanted their family to work things out and to see a miracle. That’s the unending disappointment I experienced as a kid: hoping for the impossible.
I started to realize that, maybe things were never going to work out, when he turned off the electricity in the middle of winter and burst the pipes at our house, cancelled the credit cards so we couldn’t get gas or groceries, and when the injuries started to get more severe. My heart kept hoping someone would finally intervene to protect me and my mom. But that’s when things got worse.
A campaign was launched, trying to isolate my mom and me from the rest of our friends, family and our world; even moving our home to more than 45 minutes away from town, to a secluded area with no cell phone service.
The physical consequences were mounting. I developed PTSD. I have panic attacks, regular nightmares, and I throw up and have horrible digestive issues around my abuser. I became more scared as the violence escalated in my home. I started to desperately ask for help from my pastors, my grandparents, my friends, my doctors,my school, my therapists, the police and Department of Family Services and ultimately, when my mom FINALLY filed for divorce, from my guardian ad litem and the judge. I had reached full on frantic mode.
You would think that filing for divorce would have been the end...I thought so too, but I was wrong.
I have learned the phrase “institutional betrayal”. I now have a description of what has happened to me.
I wrote numerous letters, with the help of my therapist, to the judge asking him to keep me safe and warned him that I fear for my life....these letters were suppressed by the guardian ad litem, who was supposed to represent MY best interests.
I even filed an ethics charge against the GAL for not maintaining contact with me, her client, or presenting my statements to the judge. She was not representing my best interests. I am grateful to say, thankfully, that I now have a new guardian ad litem.
I detailed, painfully, to the parental alienation custody evaluator, (who, by the way, was paid almost $100,000 by my abuser), the years of suffering. Ironically, almost none of what I said, apparently, made it into his report. Instead, the evaluator suggested a custody reversal and parental alienation camp, despite the possibility of me running away or committing suicide. Forced reunification with my abuser at all costs. Wow. Doesn’t seem like a child centered approach.
Even after an in person interview with the judge, where I detailed the abuse and it’s effects, the judge ordered a “graduated plan” for shared custody.
I was shocked to discover that after telling so many people about what was going on, that almost nobody helped me and few seemed to believe the extent of the abuse from our “nice family”.
My perpetrator counted on me being quiet, and I had kept that unspoken contract with him long enough. I had hoped he would change and things would get better, but when we got into a serious argument a few years ago, he tried to shut me up FOREVER. I survived being strangled. It was then, I realized, that I was not going to cooperate with the covering up anymore.
I was going to use my voice and be heard. Ironically, that month would be the last conversation I ever wanted to have with him...I fear for my life, around him, because I know how far he’s gone. I’m not willing to risk my life around him. I’m not sure why other people are willing to gamble with my life?
Even with a restraining order, it seemed like no one wanted to step in and take a stand for me. The guardian ad litem, obviously under the influence of Mr. X, met for several hours PRIOR to me talking to two new therapists and even sat in on my sessions. One therapist told me she didn’t believe me, before I even told her what happened to me. After hearing my experience being strangled, she told me that it was my mom who was abusive for not paying better attention!
It seemed like my abuser was trying to cut off my ability to even get psychological help from these doctors and he has tried desperately to get ahead of people and discredit me. It felt like I had no where to turn where he didn’t have influence. Corruption seems to have run rampant in my case.
I don’t understand why everyone tries so hard to reunite me with my abuser and remove me from the only stable parent I’ve ever known? Why does the system focus on parents rights and not prioritize the rights of children to be safe?
I have chosen to create a website, as my Eagle Scout project, for children caught in the cycle of abuse. I want to help them effectively report what’s going on, give tips on how to document abuse better and to give them access to tools that I didn’t have. I have a place on my website where kids can blog to each other and share experiences, trials and triumphs. I intend for my website to be an ever evolving site for additional information, articles and referral websites, as these are suggested and shared.
Knowledge and information IS power.
I want my website to be a resource for helping kids help THEMSELVES stay safe. I want my website to be able to provide education and support for other kids like me. I want to help teach other children about what abuse is, its many forms, how to keep yourself safe and how to get help when you need it and who to tell. I sure wish someone had shown me these things years ago.
It seemed like all of the folks who were supposed to protect me, didn’t...and that even included my mother, who has had to turn me over to my abuser after supervised visitations graduated to, now, unsupervised visits, under threat of being held in contempt of court.
A friend told me that, “you take a child out of a situation, but you can’t take the situation out of a child. “ It’s true. The abuse in my home was horrific and although I safe momentarily, I will have to deal with its haunting emotional effects and physical health consequences the rest of my life.
The institutional abuse I experienced from the judge, the guardian ad litem, the custody evaluator, DFS, therapists, the police and the corrupt system is what was totally preventable and is wholly inexcusable.
Look, I am asking you to stand up for children like me, in whatever capacity you can. Let’s believe children when they tell you they are in danger, and follow through to make sure that they are protected and safe. Let’s make sure mandatory reporters actually report the abuse, follow through and step up to protect children like me.
I am asking you to document, document, document.
I am asking you to recognize abuse comes from people in all shapes and sizes and economic groups. It’s physical, verbal, financial, psychological, sexual, cultural and institutional. This should not be about enabling abusive parents’ rights to access and further abuse their children. This should be about protecting children’s rights to grow up safely. Laws need to change.
STOP THE ABUSE! I’ve had enough already.
I am asking you to stand up for us...we need to have a voice and we deserve to have a choice!
Please check out my website at:
safekidsus.com
Thank you.
My name is Dune Mecartney and I’m here to share with you my experiences being failed by the institutions that are supposed to keep kids safe and protected. I will tell you about the impact on my life of abuse and ways that people in mandatory reporting positions could have done their jobs better.
What happened to me can be likened to a horror show to which I didn’t buy a ticket for admission. Rather than dwelling on the gruesome acts of a madman, I’d rather focus on the consequences of the actions and talk about how I am still in the midst of escaping this nightmare and what emergency exits could have been better illuminated by the professionals. I refuse to give top billing to my abuser or to make him the star of my life, the issue of abuse,itself, is the most important.
Let me set the stage for my story. I am 14 years old, and I live in the snowy mountains of Wyoming in a small, remote town. I’ve grown up in a pretty comfortable home, in an affluent community. I am a good kid, working on my Boy Scout Eagle Project, an A student and involved in football, golf, tennis, baseball and skiing. My parents are both educated and were successful in business.
From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like I’ve had an ideal lifestyle. Private school, vacation home, regular trips to international destinations, and even flying in jets. We were all good at outward appearances. The dirty little secret that you don’t see, from the outside looking in, is that I am also a survivor of abuse and family violence.
One of the questions I was asked to address today was, what could have been done differently? Let me see if I can answer this question in some sort of order of appearance in my life.
First, there were therapists that tried to help my family to function despite abuse. I recounted my experiences and history to several therapists. None of them reported any of the abuse. They didn’t seem to help and they just gave my mom and me coping strategies. The fact that I have had a need for therapy since I was little should have been a red flag.
I remember being taught emotional management skills as early as kindergarten. I remember thinking that I had to be “good” so that I didn’t upset the family dynamic. I sometimes ask myself why the therapists didn’t sit my parents down and give them “emotional management strategies”? Why didn’t the therapists teach my mom boundaries for my safety, if not hers? Why didn’t the therapists question why my abuser only rarely showed up for these sessions?
Why didn’t the fear get addressed? I don’t know, I thought therapists were supposed to be good at human behavior, I mean, how many abusers actually confess? Why didn’t someone call this out? My therapists could have been the first to intervene, and I don’t understand why they chose not to stand up for me or take make a phone call and uphold their duty to report.
Meanwhile, the stomach disorder that I was born with, intensified with increasing stress and fear. I became a regular patient at Denver Children’s Hospital. When I was around my abuser, I would regularly vomit and have severe stomach distress.
I also have a history of sleep issues with recurrent nightmares. I have sought both psychological support and medical care to address the night terrors. I can’t tell you how many forms I’ve filled out at my pediatrician, my regular doctor, therapists,and Denver Children’s Hospital, and to my knowledge, none of what I’ve described was ever reported to the officials.
I even interrupted a regular doctor appointment my mom was having, with me in tow, and described an incident being kicked with golf cleats the day prior, and asked my mom’s doctor to take a look at my leg. She called my therapist right in front of me, and they had an open speaker call discussing why they decided that they would not report the incident. It was explained to my mom and me that the danger of reporting to DFS was that they could come into our home, do a report and put me in foster care for not removing me from the situation earlier in life.
So let’s talk more about the officials that have been involved in my case. The police failed me and could have put a stop to some of the abuse. They could have arrested my abuser when the restraining orders were violated instead of just giving him a verbal warning. Rules seem to bend for people in positions of power, and it’s just not fair to people like me. I’m a kid, with no power, why weren’t the police protecting me and my mom? Why does the system seem to benefit the abuser and not the abused? What about my safety?
We don’t fit the common conception of an abusive family profile. I challenge you all to throw out your stereotypes. Those preconceived notions of what abusers look like and where they live, actually cost me years fighting to be heard and protected. The person in a suit living in a golf community was certainly treated differently by the police when they came knocking on my door, as opposed to someone in a less fortunate situation. Violations of restraining orders were dealt with “courtesy phone calls” instead of an arrest. Social privileges and assumed admiration of a big house and luxury cars cost me protection from pain and prolonged suffering.
Another time the police failed me was after my mom took me to an unsupervised visitation. My abuser threatened me with bodily harm and told me to keep my mouth shut. I did just the opposite at pick up. I was getting tired of the threats and secrets and bribes to be quiet, and the hurt. I think my mom saw how shaken I was and I think she was starting to realize that I was in physical danger and it wasn’t just her problem. She took me right down to the Jackson police station. I told the officer what transpired, but he informed me that no “chargeable crime” had been committed. He could gave me a case number to record for the future, full well knowing this would not be the end.
Why is it a crime for a stranger to hurt and threaten me but not when a family member does the same thing? As far as I know, this incident at the police station was not ever reported to the Department of Family Services. It made me think that, maybe police were not really there to help and protect me...but maybe they were there to protect the rights of an abuser. Criminals seemed to be afforded better protection than me.
So let’s talk more about the role of the Department of Family Services. The therapists didn’t call them, the police didn’t call them, the doctors didn’t call them...and despite several sessions with my school counselors detailing the abuse in my home, my private Christian school didn’t call them. Eventually, my mom called DFS directly to ask for help.
I spent more than three hours at DFS describing the incidents growing up in my home. I told the man from DFS about what I had witnessed and what I had directly experienced. Although he had empathy, he was very clear that unless the physical damage was more severe, like a broken bone, he could do little without a videotape of the actual abuse in progress. Seriously? I had to come back in worse shape , is the message I that got, and no one could protect me.
Eventually, after several more meetings and interviews, DFS “suggested” parenting education classes for my abuser. DFS didn’t even mandate the classes. I sent the man from DFS a video from me, hysterical about his failure to protect me, because I knew that me speaking up, was going to escalate the violence against me.
What was my takeaway? I learned at an early age that I could not trust adults, and now I was learning that I couldn’t trust officials, either.
The man who perpetrated the abuse against me was predictably unpredictable and my mom eventually always invited him back to “save our family”. He’d walk back into our home like nothing had happened, with blue bags from Tiffany’s, but no apologies, just more broken promises. There seemed to be no black and white lines in my life, just a cycle of chaos with my abuser coming in and out of my home and disappearing for long periods of time.
I learned that patterns of coming and going were “normal” and that I could not depend on my abuser being there for me for school or sports or for even being calm and rational. It was like living in a hurricane with craziness swirling all around you and not realizing the occasional absence of the insanity was actually the deception of being inside the eye of the storm.
I witnessed and was on the receiving end of his tantrums, mood swings, denial and abandonment. The pattern of explosive anger, emotional outbursts, screaming, yelling, flying objects and abuse, was usually followed by his disappearances, while my mother and I healed, both physically and emotionally.
I was caught in a serious dilemma. The bind was that I didn’t want to get hurt anymore or to see my mom harmed, but there was a part of me that wanted to see if God would heal my family. I was like any other kid, who wanted their family to work things out and to see a miracle. That’s the unending disappointment I experienced as a kid: hoping for the impossible.
I started to realize that, maybe things were never going to work out, when he turned off the electricity in the middle of winter and burst the pipes at our house, cancelled the credit cards so we couldn’t get gas or groceries, and when the injuries started to get more severe. My heart kept hoping someone would finally intervene to protect me and my mom. But that’s when things got worse.
A campaign was launched, trying to isolate my mom and me from the rest of our friends, family and our world; even moving our home to more than 45 minutes away from town, to a secluded area with no cell phone service.
The physical consequences were mounting. I developed PTSD. I have panic attacks, regular nightmares, and I throw up and have horrible digestive issues around my abuser. I became more scared as the violence escalated in my home. I started to desperately ask for help from my pastors, my grandparents, my friends, my doctors,my school, my therapists, the police and Department of Family Services and ultimately, when my mom FINALLY filed for divorce, from my guardian ad litem and the judge. I had reached full on frantic mode.
You would think that filing for divorce would have been the end...I thought so too, but I was wrong.
I have learned the phrase “institutional betrayal”. I now have a description of what has happened to me.
I wrote numerous letters, with the help of my therapist, to the judge asking him to keep me safe and warned him that I fear for my life....these letters were suppressed by the guardian ad litem, who was supposed to represent MY best interests.
I even filed an ethics charge against the GAL for not maintaining contact with me, her client, or presenting my statements to the judge. She was not representing my best interests. I am grateful to say, thankfully, that I now have a new guardian ad litem.
I detailed, painfully, to the parental alienation custody evaluator, (who, by the way, was paid almost $100,000 by my abuser), the years of suffering. Ironically, almost none of what I said, apparently, made it into his report. Instead, the evaluator suggested a custody reversal and parental alienation camp, despite the possibility of me running away or committing suicide. Forced reunification with my abuser at all costs. Wow. Doesn’t seem like a child centered approach.
Even after an in person interview with the judge, where I detailed the abuse and it’s effects, the judge ordered a “graduated plan” for shared custody.
I was shocked to discover that after telling so many people about what was going on, that almost nobody helped me and few seemed to believe the extent of the abuse from our “nice family”.
My perpetrator counted on me being quiet, and I had kept that unspoken contract with him long enough. I had hoped he would change and things would get better, but when we got into a serious argument a few years ago, he tried to shut me up FOREVER. I survived being strangled. It was then, I realized, that I was not going to cooperate with the covering up anymore.
I was going to use my voice and be heard. Ironically, that month would be the last conversation I ever wanted to have with him...I fear for my life, around him, because I know how far he’s gone. I’m not willing to risk my life around him. I’m not sure why other people are willing to gamble with my life?
Even with a restraining order, it seemed like no one wanted to step in and take a stand for me. The guardian ad litem, obviously under the influence of Mr. X, met for several hours PRIOR to me talking to two new therapists and even sat in on my sessions. One therapist told me she didn’t believe me, before I even told her what happened to me. After hearing my experience being strangled, she told me that it was my mom who was abusive for not paying better attention!
It seemed like my abuser was trying to cut off my ability to even get psychological help from these doctors and he has tried desperately to get ahead of people and discredit me. It felt like I had no where to turn where he didn’t have influence. Corruption seems to have run rampant in my case.
I don’t understand why everyone tries so hard to reunite me with my abuser and remove me from the only stable parent I’ve ever known? Why does the system focus on parents rights and not prioritize the rights of children to be safe?
I have chosen to create a website, as my Eagle Scout project, for children caught in the cycle of abuse. I want to help them effectively report what’s going on, give tips on how to document abuse better and to give them access to tools that I didn’t have. I have a place on my website where kids can blog to each other and share experiences, trials and triumphs. I intend for my website to be an ever evolving site for additional information, articles and referral websites, as these are suggested and shared.
Knowledge and information IS power.
I want my website to be a resource for helping kids help THEMSELVES stay safe. I want my website to be able to provide education and support for other kids like me. I want to help teach other children about what abuse is, its many forms, how to keep yourself safe and how to get help when you need it and who to tell. I sure wish someone had shown me these things years ago.
It seemed like all of the folks who were supposed to protect me, didn’t...and that even included my mother, who has had to turn me over to my abuser after supervised visitations graduated to, now, unsupervised visits, under threat of being held in contempt of court.
A friend told me that, “you take a child out of a situation, but you can’t take the situation out of a child. “ It’s true. The abuse in my home was horrific and although I safe momentarily, I will have to deal with its haunting emotional effects and physical health consequences the rest of my life.
The institutional abuse I experienced from the judge, the guardian ad litem, the custody evaluator, DFS, therapists, the police and the corrupt system is what was totally preventable and is wholly inexcusable.
Look, I am asking you to stand up for children like me, in whatever capacity you can. Let’s believe children when they tell you they are in danger, and follow through to make sure that they are protected and safe. Let’s make sure mandatory reporters actually report the abuse, follow through and step up to protect children like me.
I am asking you to document, document, document.
I am asking you to recognize abuse comes from people in all shapes and sizes and economic groups. It’s physical, verbal, financial, psychological, sexual, cultural and institutional. This should not be about enabling abusive parents’ rights to access and further abuse their children. This should be about protecting children’s rights to grow up safely. Laws need to change.
STOP THE ABUSE! I’ve had enough already.
I am asking you to stand up for us...we need to have a voice and we deserve to have a choice!
Please check out my website at:
safekidsus.com
Thank you.
ICAN4Kids.org revised speech
My name is Dune Mecartney and I’m here to share with you my experiences surviving abuse. I want to tell you about the impact violence in my home has had on my life and the interactions I’ve had with officials and mandatory reporters.
Let me set the stage for my story. I am 14 years old, and I live in the mountains of Wyoming in a small, remote town. I’ve grown up in a pretty comfortable home, in an affluent community. I am a good kid, working on my Boy Scout Eagle Project, an A student and I’m involved in football, golf, tennis, baseball and skiing. My parents are both educated and were successful in business.
From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like I’ve had an ideal lifestyle: private school, vacations, life’s little luxuries. We were all good at outward appearances. The dirty little secret that you don’t see, from the outside looking in, is that I am also a survivor of abuse and family violence.
I recounted my experiences and history to multiple therapists. None of them reported any of the abuse. They didn’t help me much and they just gave my mom and me coping strategies. The fact that I have had a need for therapy since I was little kid, should have been a red flag that something was amiss.
I remember being taught “emotional management strategies and skills” as early as kindergarten. I remember feeling pressure to be extra “good” so that I didn’t upset the family dynamic. I often wondered why the therapists didn’t teach my mom boundaries for MY safety, if not for hers? Why didn’t the therapists confront my abuser about his behavior, on the rare occasions that he showed up for these meetings?
Why didn’t the atmosphere of fear and intimidation get addressed?
Meanwhile, the stomach disorder that I was born with, intensified with the stress and fear. I became a regular patient at Denver Children’s Hospital. When I was around my abuser, I would regularly vomit and have severe stomach issues.
I also developed sleep problems with recurrent nightmares. I sought both psychological support and medical care to address the night terrors. I can’t tell you how many forms I’ve filled out at my pediatrician, my regular doctor, therapists, and Denver Children’s Hospital...and to my knowledge, none of what I’ve described was ever reported to the officials.
I even interrupted a regular doctor appointment my mom was having, and described an incident being kicked with golf cleats and asked my mom’s doctor to take a look at my leg. It was explained to my mom and me, that there was danger of reporting this incident to DFS. They could come into our home, do a report and put me into foster care for not removing me from the situation earlier in life.
It seemed like I couldn’t get help or protection from anywhere.
I wish the police could have put a stop to some of the abuse. Violations of restraining orders were dealt with “courtesy phone calls” instead of an arrest, presumably because my abuser wore a suit, lived in a golf course community and was a successful businessman. They could have arrested my abuser when the restraining orders were violated instead of just giving him a verbal warning. Rules seem to bend for people in positions of power, and it’s just not fair.
We didn’t fit the common perception of an abusive family. Those preconceived notions of what abusers look like and where they live, cost me years fighting to be heard and protected.
Once, during an unsupervised visitation, my abuser threatened me with bodily harm and told me to keep my mouth shut. Something inside of me snapped. I did just the opposite. I decided to finally tell my mom and the police what had happened and what I had been going through.
I was getting tired of the threats and secrets and bribes to be quiet, and the hurt. I think my mom saw how shaken I was and I think she was starting to realize that I was in physical danger and it wasn’t just her problem. I told the officer what had transpired, but he informed me that no “chargeable crime” had been committed.
Why is it a crime for a stranger to hurt and threaten me, but not when a family member does the same thing? As far as I know, this incident at the police station was not ever reported to the Department of Family Services.
Hmmmm...the Department of Family Services. The therapists didn’t call them, the police didn’t call them, the doctors didn’t call them...and despite several sessions with my school counselors detailing the abuse in my home, my private Christian school didn’t call them. Eventually, my mom called them to finally ask for help.
I spent hours telling the man from DFS about what I had witnessed and what I had directly experienced. Although he had empathy, he was very clear that unless the physical damage was more severe, like a broken bone, he could do little without a videotape of the actual abuse in progress. Eventually, after several more meetings and interviews, DFS “suggested” parenting education classes for my abuser.
The man who perpetrated the abuse against me was predictably unpredictable and unfortunately, my mom always invited him back in order to “save our family”. He’d walk back into our home like nothing had happened, with little blue bags from Tiffany’s, but no apologies...just more broken promises.
There seemed to be no black and white lines in my life, no boundaries, just a cycle of chaos with my abuser coming in and out of my home and then disappearing for long periods of time.
I learned that the patterns of coming and going were “normal” and that I could not depend on my abuser being there for me for school or sports or camp or for even being calm and rational.
It was like living in a hurricane with craziness swirling all around you and not realizing the occasional absence of the insanity was actually the deception of being inside the eye of the storm.
I witnessed and was on the receiving end of his tantrums, mood swings, denial and abandonment. The pattern of explosive anger, emotional outbursts, screaming, yelling, flying objects, hitting, kicking and punching was usually followed by his disappearances, while my mother and I healed, both physically and emotionally.
I was caught in a serious dilemma. The bind was that I didn’t want to get hurt anymore or to see my mom harmed, but there was a part of me that wanted to see if God would heal my family. I was like any other kid, who wanted their family to work things out and to see a miracle. That’s the unending disappointment I experienced as a kid: hoping for the impossible, a happy ending, or just an ending, period.
I started to realize that, maybe things were never going to work out, when he turned off the electricity in the middle of winter and burst the pipes at our house, cancelled the credit cards so we couldn’t get gas or groceries, and when the injuries started to get more severe. My heart kept hoping someone would intervene to protect me and my mom. But that’s when things only got worse.
A campaign was launched, trying to isolate my mom and me, cutting us off from the rest of our friends, family and our world; even moving our home to more than 45 minutes away from town, to a secluded area with no cell phone service.
The physical consequences were mounting. I developed PTSD, have panic attacks, regular nightmares, and I throw up and have horrible digestive issues around my abuser. I became more scared as the violence escalated. I started to desperately ask for help from my pastors, my grandparents, my friends, my doctors,my school, my therapists, the police and the Department of Family Services.
FINALLY, my mom filed for divorce, and I tried to get help from my guardian ad litem and the judge. I was frantic.
You would think that filing for divorce would have been the end...I thought so too, but I was wrong. Another kind of abuse was now happening.
I wrote numerous letters, with the help of my therapist, to the judge asking him to keep me safe and warned him that I fear for my life....these letters were suppressed by the guardian ad litem, who was supposed to represent MY best interests.
I eventually even filed an ethics compliant against the GAL after a bunch of problems, and I am grateful to say, that I now have a new guardian ad litem.
I detailed, painfully, to the custody evaluator, (who was paid almost $100,000 by my abuser), the years of me suffering. Almost none of what I said, apparently, made it into his report. Instead, the evaluator suggested parental alienation, a custody reversal and a forced reunification camp, despite the risks of running away or committing suicide or further harm.
Even after an in person interview with the judge, where I detailed the abuse and it’s effects, the judge ordered a “graduated plan” from supervised to unsupervised visitation, to then shared custody.
I was SHOCKED to discover that after telling so many people about what was going on, few helped me or seemed to believe the extent of the abuse. This bogus tactic of alleging parental alienation was deflecting the attention from the real problem of abuse.
My perpetrator counted on me being quiet, and I kept that unspoken contract with him long enough. I had hoped he would change and things would get better, but when we got into a serious argument a few years ago, he tried to shut me up FOREVER.
I survived being strangled.
It was then, I realized, that I was not going to cooperate with the covering up anymore.
I was going to use my voice and be heard.
I fear for my life around him. I’m not willing to risk my safety around him and I don’t understand why other people are willing to gamble with my life?
I don’t understand why everyone tries so hard to reunite me with my abuser and remove me from the only stable parent I’ve ever known? Why does the system focus on parents rights and not prioritize the rights of children to be safe?
A friend told me that, “you can take a child out of a situation, but you can’t take the situation out of a child. “ It’s true. The abuse in my home was horrific and although I am safe now, I will have to deal with the haunting emotional effects and physical health consequences for the rest of my life.
As part of my Eagle Scout project, I am speaking out about family violence and I’ve created a website for children caught in the cycle of abuse.
I want to help kids effectively report violence, give tips on how to document abuse better and to give them access to tools that I didn’t have.
I have a place on my website where kids can blog to each other and share experiences, trials and triumphs. I intend for my website to be an ever evolving site for additional information, articles and referral websites, as these are suggested and shared.
Knowledge and information IS power.
I want my website to be a resource for helping kids help THEMSELVES stay safe. I want to provide education and support for other kids like me. I want to help teach other children about what abuse is, its many forms, how to keep yourself safe and how to get help when you need it and who to tell. I sure wish someone had shown me these things years ago.
I am asking you to stand up for children like me, in whatever capacity you can. BELIEVE children when they tell you they are in danger, and follow through to make sure that they are protected and safe. Let’s make sure mandatory reporters actually report the abuse, follow through and step up to protect children like me.
I am asking you to name the abuse and document, document, document.
I am asking you to recognize abuse comes from people in all shapes and sizes and economic groups. It’s physical, verbal, financial, psychological, sexual, cultural and institutional.
Let’s stop enabling abusive parents’ rights to access and further abuse their children. Let’s protect children’s rights to grow up safely. You are in a position to save innocent children’s lives, please help us.
I am asking you to stand up for us...we need to have a voice and we deserve to have a choice!
Please check out my website at:
safekidsus.com
Thank you.
My name is Dune Mecartney and I’m here to share with you my experiences surviving abuse. I want to tell you about the impact violence in my home has had on my life and the interactions I’ve had with officials and mandatory reporters.
Let me set the stage for my story. I am 14 years old, and I live in the mountains of Wyoming in a small, remote town. I’ve grown up in a pretty comfortable home, in an affluent community. I am a good kid, working on my Boy Scout Eagle Project, an A student and I’m involved in football, golf, tennis, baseball and skiing. My parents are both educated and were successful in business.
From an outsider’s perspective, it might look like I’ve had an ideal lifestyle: private school, vacations, life’s little luxuries. We were all good at outward appearances. The dirty little secret that you don’t see, from the outside looking in, is that I am also a survivor of abuse and family violence.
I recounted my experiences and history to multiple therapists. None of them reported any of the abuse. They didn’t help me much and they just gave my mom and me coping strategies. The fact that I have had a need for therapy since I was little kid, should have been a red flag that something was amiss.
I remember being taught “emotional management strategies and skills” as early as kindergarten. I remember feeling pressure to be extra “good” so that I didn’t upset the family dynamic. I often wondered why the therapists didn’t teach my mom boundaries for MY safety, if not for hers? Why didn’t the therapists confront my abuser about his behavior, on the rare occasions that he showed up for these meetings?
Why didn’t the atmosphere of fear and intimidation get addressed?
Meanwhile, the stomach disorder that I was born with, intensified with the stress and fear. I became a regular patient at Denver Children’s Hospital. When I was around my abuser, I would regularly vomit and have severe stomach issues.
I also developed sleep problems with recurrent nightmares. I sought both psychological support and medical care to address the night terrors. I can’t tell you how many forms I’ve filled out at my pediatrician, my regular doctor, therapists, and Denver Children’s Hospital...and to my knowledge, none of what I’ve described was ever reported to the officials.
I even interrupted a regular doctor appointment my mom was having, and described an incident being kicked with golf cleats and asked my mom’s doctor to take a look at my leg. It was explained to my mom and me, that there was danger of reporting this incident to DFS. They could come into our home, do a report and put me into foster care for not removing me from the situation earlier in life.
It seemed like I couldn’t get help or protection from anywhere.
I wish the police could have put a stop to some of the abuse. Violations of restraining orders were dealt with “courtesy phone calls” instead of an arrest, presumably because my abuser wore a suit, lived in a golf course community and was a successful businessman. They could have arrested my abuser when the restraining orders were violated instead of just giving him a verbal warning. Rules seem to bend for people in positions of power, and it’s just not fair.
We didn’t fit the common perception of an abusive family. Those preconceived notions of what abusers look like and where they live, cost me years fighting to be heard and protected.
Once, during an unsupervised visitation, my abuser threatened me with bodily harm and told me to keep my mouth shut. Something inside of me snapped. I did just the opposite. I decided to finally tell my mom and the police what had happened and what I had been going through.
I was getting tired of the threats and secrets and bribes to be quiet, and the hurt. I think my mom saw how shaken I was and I think she was starting to realize that I was in physical danger and it wasn’t just her problem. I told the officer what had transpired, but he informed me that no “chargeable crime” had been committed.
Why is it a crime for a stranger to hurt and threaten me, but not when a family member does the same thing? As far as I know, this incident at the police station was not ever reported to the Department of Family Services.
Hmmmm...the Department of Family Services. The therapists didn’t call them, the police didn’t call them, the doctors didn’t call them...and despite several sessions with my school counselors detailing the abuse in my home, my private Christian school didn’t call them. Eventually, my mom called them to finally ask for help.
I spent hours telling the man from DFS about what I had witnessed and what I had directly experienced. Although he had empathy, he was very clear that unless the physical damage was more severe, like a broken bone, he could do little without a videotape of the actual abuse in progress. Eventually, after several more meetings and interviews, DFS “suggested” parenting education classes for my abuser.
The man who perpetrated the abuse against me was predictably unpredictable and unfortunately, my mom always invited him back in order to “save our family”. He’d walk back into our home like nothing had happened, with little blue bags from Tiffany’s, but no apologies...just more broken promises.
There seemed to be no black and white lines in my life, no boundaries, just a cycle of chaos with my abuser coming in and out of my home and then disappearing for long periods of time.
I learned that the patterns of coming and going were “normal” and that I could not depend on my abuser being there for me for school or sports or camp or for even being calm and rational.
It was like living in a hurricane with craziness swirling all around you and not realizing the occasional absence of the insanity was actually the deception of being inside the eye of the storm.
I witnessed and was on the receiving end of his tantrums, mood swings, denial and abandonment. The pattern of explosive anger, emotional outbursts, screaming, yelling, flying objects, hitting, kicking and punching was usually followed by his disappearances, while my mother and I healed, both physically and emotionally.
I was caught in a serious dilemma. The bind was that I didn’t want to get hurt anymore or to see my mom harmed, but there was a part of me that wanted to see if God would heal my family. I was like any other kid, who wanted their family to work things out and to see a miracle. That’s the unending disappointment I experienced as a kid: hoping for the impossible, a happy ending, or just an ending, period.
I started to realize that, maybe things were never going to work out, when he turned off the electricity in the middle of winter and burst the pipes at our house, cancelled the credit cards so we couldn’t get gas or groceries, and when the injuries started to get more severe. My heart kept hoping someone would intervene to protect me and my mom. But that’s when things only got worse.
A campaign was launched, trying to isolate my mom and me, cutting us off from the rest of our friends, family and our world; even moving our home to more than 45 minutes away from town, to a secluded area with no cell phone service.
The physical consequences were mounting. I developed PTSD, have panic attacks, regular nightmares, and I throw up and have horrible digestive issues around my abuser. I became more scared as the violence escalated. I started to desperately ask for help from my pastors, my grandparents, my friends, my doctors,my school, my therapists, the police and the Department of Family Services.
FINALLY, my mom filed for divorce, and I tried to get help from my guardian ad litem and the judge. I was frantic.
You would think that filing for divorce would have been the end...I thought so too, but I was wrong. Another kind of abuse was now happening.
I wrote numerous letters, with the help of my therapist, to the judge asking him to keep me safe and warned him that I fear for my life....these letters were suppressed by the guardian ad litem, who was supposed to represent MY best interests.
I eventually even filed an ethics compliant against the GAL after a bunch of problems, and I am grateful to say, that I now have a new guardian ad litem.
I detailed, painfully, to the custody evaluator, (who was paid almost $100,000 by my abuser), the years of me suffering. Almost none of what I said, apparently, made it into his report. Instead, the evaluator suggested parental alienation, a custody reversal and a forced reunification camp, despite the risks of running away or committing suicide or further harm.
Even after an in person interview with the judge, where I detailed the abuse and it’s effects, the judge ordered a “graduated plan” from supervised to unsupervised visitation, to then shared custody.
I was SHOCKED to discover that after telling so many people about what was going on, few helped me or seemed to believe the extent of the abuse. This bogus tactic of alleging parental alienation was deflecting the attention from the real problem of abuse.
My perpetrator counted on me being quiet, and I kept that unspoken contract with him long enough. I had hoped he would change and things would get better, but when we got into a serious argument a few years ago, he tried to shut me up FOREVER.
I survived being strangled.
It was then, I realized, that I was not going to cooperate with the covering up anymore.
I was going to use my voice and be heard.
I fear for my life around him. I’m not willing to risk my safety around him and I don’t understand why other people are willing to gamble with my life?
I don’t understand why everyone tries so hard to reunite me with my abuser and remove me from the only stable parent I’ve ever known? Why does the system focus on parents rights and not prioritize the rights of children to be safe?
A friend told me that, “you can take a child out of a situation, but you can’t take the situation out of a child. “ It’s true. The abuse in my home was horrific and although I am safe now, I will have to deal with the haunting emotional effects and physical health consequences for the rest of my life.
As part of my Eagle Scout project, I am speaking out about family violence and I’ve created a website for children caught in the cycle of abuse.
I want to help kids effectively report violence, give tips on how to document abuse better and to give them access to tools that I didn’t have.
I have a place on my website where kids can blog to each other and share experiences, trials and triumphs. I intend for my website to be an ever evolving site for additional information, articles and referral websites, as these are suggested and shared.
Knowledge and information IS power.
I want my website to be a resource for helping kids help THEMSELVES stay safe. I want to provide education and support for other kids like me. I want to help teach other children about what abuse is, its many forms, how to keep yourself safe and how to get help when you need it and who to tell. I sure wish someone had shown me these things years ago.
I am asking you to stand up for children like me, in whatever capacity you can. BELIEVE children when they tell you they are in danger, and follow through to make sure that they are protected and safe. Let’s make sure mandatory reporters actually report the abuse, follow through and step up to protect children like me.
I am asking you to name the abuse and document, document, document.
I am asking you to recognize abuse comes from people in all shapes and sizes and economic groups. It’s physical, verbal, financial, psychological, sexual, cultural and institutional.
Let’s stop enabling abusive parents’ rights to access and further abuse their children. Let’s protect children’s rights to grow up safely. You are in a position to save innocent children’s lives, please help us.
I am asking you to stand up for us...we need to have a voice and we deserve to have a choice!
Please check out my website at:
safekidsus.com
Thank you.