"Yvonne, a Survivor’s Story"
Jessica's Law Now - North Carolina
Many situations have occurred throughout North Carolina like Yvonne's and Jessica’s Law Now is
fighting help make a difference. The following write up has been kept in Yvonne's own words. Please
see our input after the write up on what to do for a sexually abused child. Have any questions about
abuse situation feel free to contact us.
"Yvonne, a Survivor's Story"
I vividly remember the bell ringing in middle school, the halls filled with overjoyed per-teens running for the buses.
It was time to go home…time to hang out with friends, watch cartoons and play outside. I was 12 years old. I
was outgoing and talkative with many friends. Nobody knew. Nobody knew that my palms got sweaty at the end
of the school day, nor did they know the real reasons I begged them to come to my house as soon as they got off
the bus. Nobody knew the hell I lived through on a daily basis nor did they know that I was fighting for my own
mental and physical survival.
The daily plotting began when I woke up each morning. How would I get through it this afternoon? What excuses
could I use? Where could I go? He would be there, in his pajama bottoms….waiting for me to get home. As the
bus got closer to my house, I became nervous and nauseated. My hands would shake. I would get off the bus
and use today’s excuse: I would pretend to drop an earring in the grass. This would give me an excuse to stay
outside, flipping through the freshly cut grass…looking for, nothing. This is how I would spend the next hour,
until he became irritated enough to call me inside. He had caught on to my excuses. He knew I tried to avoid him.
He…was the man who adopted me and called me his daughter. This was my life… constant planning, plotting,
lying and all the while trying to be normal, trying to fit in and still go though life as a middle school student.
He was attractive, had a good job and was a social butterfly. I remember when he met my mom. It was just her
and I until he came along. I was 7 years old. She loved him, and so did her friends. He was a charmer; he was
fun and a “nice guy.” Few people saw his Jack leg and Hyde personalities. But I did. Nobody would have ever
thought
It was not until I was eight that he began his physical and mental manipulations with me. Rubbing me, kissing me,
snuggling just a little too close. Let me say that again…I was eight. An innocent, peppy, funny, goofy little girl with
ponytails who thought the whole world revolved around my Me maw. I thought this is just what daddies did. I
thought he loved me. Every little girl needs a daddy and I was just excited to have one now. But why? Why
couldn't’t my mommy know how much he loved me? He said she would be mad at me. She would be jealous
that he loved me. I would never do anything to hurt or disappoint her and he knew this, so it just became our
secret. Our secret that I would keep for the next 7 years and the one that would harbor the physical and mental
torture and anguish that I would live with for the rest of my life.
Our house had a circle in it; you know…the house that kids love to run though. A never ending hallway to run in,
great for hide and seek or freeze tag fun. Well, maybe for some kids. For me, it was an escape route. It was the
circle of crying, screaming, running and slamming doors, until finally he would catch me. My little brother is in his
highchair in the kitchen, watching the chase while eating his cookies. He was my defense on some days, even as a
toddler. As I ran through the kitchen, I would undo his chair so he could crawl down. It slowed me down, but if I
could get him down…it would stop, if only for a minute. I could at least catch my breathe. I was exhausted
physically and mentally. I hated him and only called him daddy when I wanted to guilt him. “Please stop daddy,
please. I love you; please don’t do this to me.” Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t
Tonight after supper, I will write today’s experience in my diary. The diary that I would leave unlocked and
displayed on my dresser. Maybe my mom will pick it up and read, or at least I hoped so. This would keep me
from having to tell anybody. I was so ashamed. I was scared. My mom seemed to be so happy with him and
their two new children and me. I would not have taken this away from her, even if it meant it was at my own
expense. “God, I wish somebody would just find out.” Maybe tomorrow, I’ll scream for help. Maybe the
neighbors will hear. Maybe he will be afraid and stop, or maybe he will stick his hand over my mouth. I tried it
once and learned that was not such a good idea. When I tried to defend myself physically, he got really mad.
Sometimes his hand over my mouth and nose, restricting my breathing. The more I fought, the worse it was. I
began to learn that the more cooperative I was, the quicker it was over. This would be my new survival
technique. Just let him do it, do not fight and it will be over soon.
Nobody knew. Nobody.
My mom is leaving. “YES! It is over. After seven long years, it is almost over. They are getting divorced and I
could not be happier. I am free at last.” I was 14 years old, my little brother was five and my baby sister was
three. The four of us could be together and be so happy. I loved my siblings. I acted as if they were mine
sometimes. I loved to take pictures of them and teach them songs. Maybe I could live normally now. “What is
normal like?” I wondered.
Words like custody and visitation rights were thrown around. “WHAT?” “No way in hell am I going to his
house.” However, I did anyway. My sister was only three and I would not send her without me being there. I
was afraid for not only me now, but for my sister too. I was angry and full of hate. I’d had it with him. “I wish I
could kill him and get away with it.” I wished he would die in a car wreck and now I did not mind telling him so.
“I HATE YOU,” I would scream at him. What was he going to do? Kill me? Well, maybe I would be better off.
I did not care anymore. I was so tired of the fight that I thought it was over. I started to threaten him with the
police.
The last night I ever saw him without his prison suit on was the night I broke out of his one story apartment in
Winston Salem. It was 3am and he had tried it again for the last time. I did not want to watch him masturbate
anymore. Nor did I want him licking and kissing me. His penis would never touch me again. I was done. I
escaped through his bedroom window. The dresser was holding the door back. My little brother and sister lay
sleeping peacefully in his bed. I woke them up. I was more nervous that night than ever. My whole body was
violently shaking. I told them we were leaving and offered nothing more than that. I lifted my brother out the
window and asked him to help me by catching my sister when I handed her out. They were out. I threw our bag
out. I looked over my shoulder one last time and crawled out the window. I put my brother on my back, our
bags over my should and my baby sister on my left hip. There he was, coming around the side of the apartment
building. He was wearing a green pair of scrubs from the hospital. I will never forget it. I began to run as fast as I
could possible go, although it more of a hobble. A car started up. It was parked in the car wash by the Circle K
right behind the apartment. “NO, please stop, come back….Help” He was going to catch me. He could have.
Instead, he turned around. I made it to the store and the shocked store clerk asked what was going on. I
requested that they lock the doors with my brother and sister inside while I used the pay phone. No, instead
they locked the doors with all of us inside and allowed me to use the phone. It was over.
The car that left the car wash went, followed, and flagged down a police officer that drove by. They had sat at
the car wash and watched the whole thing unfold. The same time the officer pulled up, so did our”dad.” Minutes
later, he was in handcuffs.
After intense interviews, confessions and a plea-bargained trial, he is now serving a 25-year sentence in prison.
He comes up for parole in 2014. Only 6 years and he will be out. Too bad in 6 years, he will be back on the
streets at the ripe age of 56. Still a danger to children everywhere. I sure wish in 6 years, the horrible memories
of my childhood would go away. I am the one serving a life sentence here, not him.
I think that anyone who commits acts such as this on the young, innocent children of our society are more than
sick. They are monsters. It is high time that we start protecting the ones that need to be protected and stop
defending the ones who are victimizing the young children. Everyone, and this includes you…has a young person
in their life that they would die for. I know I do. I want you to stop for just one second. I want you to close your
eyes. Close them and picture that little person that you love so very much. See them laugh. See them smile. Now
I want you to picture them running for their life, screaming and crying. I want you to imagine them struggling to
breathe. It is horrible, but it is reality. It could be happening to them right this very moment and you would not
even know it. They will hide their torture to keep you safe. I did, as do many others.
Anyone who does not fight for stricter laws governing the punishment of the people who commit acts such as this,
in my eyes, is just a guilty as the ones who commit the crimes. WHY? Why would someone think for even one
minute that they deserve some type of defense or protection? If crimes against children are still happening, then
the laws are not strict enough. This is not a case of black or white, this is not a case of nationality, religion or
government affiliation. This is not about being politically correct. This is about being human. This is about the
children who suffer at the hands of adults. This is about common sense.
North Carolina needs to fight for Jessica’s Law to be passed. We are one of few states remaining not having the
law in effect. Should make you wonder one thing…. Where are all of the child molesters and sexual predators
going to go when looking for a new place to live? Where will they shop? Where will they find their next victim?
Whose mom will they marry next? Well, no need to look far, in your back yard is close enough. They will choose
states who lack the laws to protect they children that they prey upon... they will choose North Carolina.
I hope we are ready.
Yvonne
What do for a Sexually Abused Child:
1.) Ever believe that your child been sexually abused, do not be afraid to report it nor blame yourself.
Report the abuse to the police immediately.
2.) You need stay calm to help your child.
3.) Provide a calm atmosphere and environment for your child.
4.) Stay with your child through each step of the investigation giving them support and encouragement.
5.) Convey that your child they are no way responsible for what they encountered. Being reassurance of
encouragement and support will help your child.
6.) Have a physician see your child for an examined soon as possible. This is not only important for your
child's welfare, but it will help the authority’s document evidence.
7.) Stay with your child; why the doctor is examining your child and give support with encouragement.
Remember that this child has gone through a horrible ordeal and they are terrified.
8.) Request a child advocate that will help you, as well as your child.
9.) Very important, your child receives experienced counseling from a counselor that is experienced
handling child abuse. Talk with the doctor that examines your child and child advocate for suggestions of
somebody. Remember that both parties are familiar with the situation and will have child's best interest.
