Gramma,
The text messages and calls from Trashcan continued. I told him I was coming out to help my daughter. I said I was bringing Dave and my son to take care of the Mexican. Undaunted, he said, "Good, you will probably need them to get her away from him and the drugs. I want her to get the help she needs."
"I'm going to get her the help she needs," I said. He kept texting, asking when I was coming out. Then, in one of his texts, he dropped a bombshell. He said she had been raped and molested much of her childhood and teen years."
"Who did this?" I asked. He didn't know, but was sure it was the reason she was acting the way she was.
I called her. I asked if it was true. There was loud silence. I knew it was true. I was in the car with Dave. We were coming from the cemetery. It was the one year anniversary of his daughter's death from MS. I had all I could do to not start screaming. I was holding my throat, trying to sound calm. "Yes," she said. When I got off the phone, I told Dave to cover his ears. I screamed for a good five minutes, deep, primal screaming that left my voice hoarse.
When I got home, I booked a flight for the next day. Dave had taken the rest of the week off to mourn his daughter. He had the dogs to keep him company. My daughter protested my coming out. She said she was staying with a friend and had no place to go. She did not want to return to her condo because he would come there and she was afraid. I said we would change the locks. I planned to take the rail into Denver and Uber from there. When she realized I was not taking no for an answer, she said she would pick me up at the airport.
We went directly to the police station, where we spent several hours with an officer who specialized in domestic violence issues. She gave my daughter a pep talk about pressing charges and not feeling bad about it. The DA had pictures, testimony from her, and the hospital records. They would go forward without her if necessary. My daughter didn't want to ruin Trashcan's military career of seventeen years. He only needed three more years to get full retirement. There is zero tolerance for domestic violence in the military. He would lose everything and he knew it.
He kept lighting up our phones with attempted contact. "Tell her not to do this, I have nothing left. I want to work this out. She's lying. The Mexicans told her to say this. They did this to her." The police took pictures of all text transcripts. I wrote a three page statement regarding the phone calls. His lawyer told the police he hit her once with an open hand.
Trashcan refused to turn himself in. For some reason he was not working. He was in hiding. His attorney said to call him when they had the warrant and he would come in with his client. The first night, with new locks, we both slept with one eye open. There was an Order for Protection waiting for him. The order stated that he should return her dog immediately.
After a few days, I brought up the topic of rape. I told her about my rapes. It was strange that I had never talked about them. She opened up a little bit. When she was fifteen, she had a boyfriend. Because she wouldn't have sex with him, the kids taunted her. She was labeled a lesbian. Three boys decided they would fix that. She wouldn't say who. "It doesn't matter. Some of them were dead," she said. A co-worker had also raped her when she was not on birth control.
I bought her groceries. We went to some second hand stores looking at clothing. We took a drive into the mountains and explored a little town. We spent more time at the police station. We got contacts for domestic violence resources. She went to work half a day, then almost a whole day before taking me to the airport. An advocacy appointment was set up for the day after I left. Labor Day was coming up. I asked the police if they could arrest Trashcan on Friday, so he would have to spend a three or four days in jail. There was not much more I could legally do.
To be continued....
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