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This is my Story
This is My Story
(And I have to stick to it, I don’t want to, but that is the way it is)
I am currently in Recovery from Drug Addiction. I have been clean now for nearly eight years. I relapsed on my drug of choice-cocaine-when my mother died in 1993; a year after my son was born. Before that, I was literally rescued from years of heinous sexual and physical abuse, forced prostitution and drugs, by being arrested and sent to prison in 1990.
At the age of 11, a “family friend” began brutally sodomizing my 9 year old brother. I have always been very intelligent, reading medical encyclopedias, journals, ECT. So, even at that young age, I knew that my body could handle what this sick pedophile was doing to my younger brother, more than his body could. He only got a hold of my brother three times and then I made him notice me. Some times I hated myself for wishing he would go hurt some other family’s kids. Why us? This abuse lasted for several months. He raped and sodomized me with his penis and a Ban roll-on deodorant bottle. He forced my brother and I to perform oral sex on each other in front of him and he also brutally raped and sodomized his nieces, nephews and children.
I joined a local Police Explores post a year later because I wanted to help people. When I turned to the Assistant Leader of the troop, a patrolman with the local police department, I told him everything that had happened to me. He offered me mixed drinks, took me to his house, seduced me and performed oral sex on me. I didn’t mind since it didn’t hurt-he did bring me great pleasure and that made it “okay”. The man that had hurt my brother and I was not prosecuted and I was “turned out” for child pornography and prostitution to the cops in that little, North Florida, “Good ole boy” town. For years I had to watch pornography to learn how to please these “local heroes”. I was pleasuring men who had daughters older than me. But, I figured that since they weren’t hurting me like the guy that hurt my brother and they were training me to be a cop, it was okay. This is when I started smoking marijuana and snorting cocaine and drinking heavily.
I never experienced any real dating. I didn’t have a prom. I dropped out of Junior High School at the age of 15, got my GED and went to Junior College on financial aid. I was a “functional addict”, until I got my first real boyfriend. He was three month younger than I was, in college early like me and he was Cute. To make a long story bearable- I had to “service” his brother, his cousin, his father, at this guy own whim. He started beating me brutally and I went to the police (before there were any domestic violence laws) they would force me to have sex and deliver me back to my boyfriend. Then I would be beaten again.
After dropping out of college, one evening I was working as a cashier. I came to our little trailer that his parents had bought for him and settled down on the couch. I wanted to smoke a joint, take a hot bath, eat dinner and go to sleep. This guy and his brother are doing something I had never seen before-smoking some stuff that stank. The guy tries to plead and wheedle me into smoking “crack”. I had remembered about an up coming basketball player named Len Bias, whose heart exploded from that stuff during a practice, I didn’t want it, no part of it. I was scared. In the first time in our relationship, he beat me with a wire hanger (a pimp stick, as he called it) and I still refused. He skipped the other tortures and put a pistol to my temple and said, “Smoke or die Bitch!” I smoked and I was hooked. He prostituted me and gave me just enough o keep me hooked and around. He forced me to steal and forge checks, alter money orders, or face the alternative of being brutally sodomized by him. Wee my choice was pretty clear. I was convinced that this lunatic would also carry out a threat of killing my elderly parents if I left him. And for four long years I suffered abuses that no human or animal should ever have to endure.
On February 14, 1990, I was arrested for crimes committed during a drug and alcohol induced black out. I still only have vague
bits and pieces from time to time, but no real memory. I was sentenced to State Prison. Truly I was rescued; and my parents were going to be safe. I was released 18 months later, had a gorgeous little boy, who is my very heart and soul, and had a beautiful relationship with my prison consular, (who is my son’s father). I had a life, three phone business (legal) from my home, and most importantly, a family.
My mother died in may of 1993, and I relapsed on Crack. I had also been given the extra-ordinary information that my mother was actually my biological grandmother. My father was actually my step-grandfather. My biological mother committed suicide in my presence when I was three tears old, and at last notice (1970) my father was in the Army. I would love to find my birth father and have all of my adoptive records. I just don’t know where to begin. On top of all of this, my son’s father, who I had just married, was already married to someone else.
I binged for a few months, and spent a great deal of money. But then I did manage to get sober, get to meetings, get it together. When I relapsed I was also arrested for violation of Probation. I refused to sex my parole officer, so he violated me. Once I got all of that mess taken care of, I was back home, getting myself back together and everything was cool for a few months, three if I am not mistaken. Then I got a call that my dad/step-grandfather was ill. I must get from central Florida to north Florida immediately. Well, I borrowed a friend’s car; I drove to my hometown and was pulled over for speeding (just 5 mph over the limit). I was concerned about my dad. After pulling me over, this police officer I didn’t know proceeded to search my car, “because he felt like it”. He reached under the front seat of the car and stuffed in there was a soda can that had been altered to smoke crack with. I figured I would tell him the truth, it wasn’t my car, it is borrowed, and my dad is sick, I had to hurry to make sure my dad was okay, you see? He didn’t want to hear it. He put me in the back seat of his patrol car and took me way out on a back road. He said, “You suck my dick real good and this can will suddenly disappear.” I figured to myself that I done more for less and I didn’t want to violate my re-instated probation, if I did I would be going back to prison. Well, he lied. I did what he wanted and he submitted the can for evidence and it gave me two parole violations.
Right now I have been in prison for eight years, maximum security, and close custody. I will be released in approximately two years, with gain time. I was sentenced to 27 years in prison for those violations of probation and 5 years for the can. Yes my sentence is very illegal, excessive, and unconstitutional. They just don’t care about you if you don’t have a influential, reputable attorney for your representation. And that takes money. I can’t even buy a stick of deodorant much less afford an attorney. I have been fighting my case- and all motions except one have been denied. I have no where to call home, no family (except my son who is with his father).
I do have a great deal of gratitude though. After all that I’ve been through, I didn’t contract Aids, Hepatitis, Herpes, and ECT. I am very healthy and I’ve received and education in here that money simply couldn’t have bought. Yes, I am a very jaded woman. But I can still laugh, stop and smell flowers and see the magic and beauty in a precious sunrise, sunset and the face of the Full moon.
Well that is my story… oh one other thing… a priest that used to come to the prison to hold Mass once told me that “Cocaine is the Devils Spit”. I am Wicca and do not believe is a devil, per say. But it is the single most evil thing that I have seen in my 32 years. I am guilty of surviving abuse the best way I could. I am a survivor. And I am a damn good woman too!
About the Author
Karen is a lady inmate in Florida who has written this article about her life. The article is graphic in conter and readers whould be warned. It explains how women get involved in drug use, prostitution and utimatatly incarceration.
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