Date Posted:12:22:09 05/28/07 Mon Author: Justice4All (Determined/Driven) Subject: The Injustice of the Statute of Limitations regarding Childhood Sexual Abuse
This letter was sent to every member in the House of Representatives. Please join my cause as it is a cause for all survivors of abuse.
To Whom It May Concern:
I beg of you to please read my letter in its entirety. Sadly, my story is not unique, however, it needs to be told. Be warned it is graphic, blunt and brutal. I want to drive home for the reader, what my life has been like and why I am now, after 20 years, attempting to seek justice and effect change in our current laws regarding the statute of limitations for sexual abuse in our state as well as other states.
My mother, Setsuko McKenzie, took up residence with James Lamar Mckenzie in 1976 in Arizona. She married him a few years later in Honolulu, Hawaii.
From the moment we walked into his home, he began to physically abuse me. I was four years old when it started. By the time I turned six years old, the sexual abuse began. The first time it happened, I asked him what my mom would do if I told her. He told me that he would break my neck. Having suffered two years of near daily beatings at the hands of this man, I believed him. I never breathed a word about what he was doing to me. I suffered in silence.
A typical molesting session went like this: He made me give him oral sex for several minutes. Then he would take a jar of Vaseline to lubricate my anus and the head of his penis. He tried to penetrate my anus. It caused me excruciating pain. I was not supposed to make noise, but I couldn't help it. I would scream in agony. Next, he would flip me over and attempt to penetrate my vagina. This pain was even worse. When he was finally done trying, I would have difficulty peeing. It burned horribly.
Everyday for eight long years, he was either beating me with a belt, and other hard objects or attempting to rape me. He finally succeeded at sodomizing my anus when I turned eight years old. He never was able to take my virginity, something I thank God for everyday.
He didn't give me normal spankings that most people give their children. He inflicted massive damage on my body, raising welts, knocking my two front teeth out when he threw me into a wall and sometimes incorporating sexual abuse with the physical abuse telling me, "It's supposed to hurt. This is your punishment."
He found any excuse to beat me. He didn't like the way I ate my food telling me I was playing with it. He would beat me right there at the table while my mother watched. Eventually, I had to eat outside like an animal.
On occasion, I developed inflammation and infection in my genital area. The first time it happened, I told my mother that I hurt down there. She looked and told me that she would take me to see a doctor. James overheard the conversation and when she left the house, he scolded and threatened me to never say anything again, just tell him.
He talked her out of taking me to the doctor. I have no idea how he did it, but he did. I never saw a doctor and I never said anything when I was hurting. I had no inclination to report further inflammation to him.
Adults took notice of the large welts on my arms and legs when I attended elementary school in Schoefield Barracks in Honolulu. They asked me if someone was hurting me and I said no. They must have called my parents because soon I was only allowed to wear long sleeved clothes on days that I was bruised and welted even though it was hot outside.
When I turned 12 years old, James was stationed in Korea for a one-year assignment. He was a Chief Warrant Officer 3 and a CID agent. Six months into his absence, I finally mustered the small shred of courage I had to let someone know what was happening. I wrote on a piece of paper, "My step-father is molesting me." I handed it to my sixth grade teacher. She in turn, reported it to the principal. A social worker came to my school and I told her that he was hurting me. She told me that she would talk to my mother while I was at school and she would stay there until I got home.
When I walked in the door my mother was in tears. She called me a liar and told me that I was ruining her marriage. I said nothing. Shortly after, the social worker reported the accusation to the military police. I was court ordered into group therapy. The social worker told me he would not be able to hurt me anymore. I felt relief. It was to be short lived.
She went into her bedroom and called him after the social worker left. I didn't hear what they talked about. She called me into the bedroom and made me talk to him. He said to me, "I'm not going to jail for this." I couldn't believe what I was hearing and why she would make me talk to my perpetrator. She told me the next day that James claimed the way it started was I brought sexual literature to him and asked him to do those things to me. Basically, he was accusing me of seducing him. Her tone of voice was accusatory towards me. It was surreal.
I can't remember how long after the next event happened. My mother came to me and told me that she was going to divorce him, but I needed to recant my accusation or else she, my litter sister and I would be out on the street. She told me that if he went to jail, we wouldn't have any money to have food or a home. She put this burden on my 12-year-old shoulders.
I did as she asked. I trusted my mother and had no reason to doubt her words. To this day, I'm not sure which is worse: Suffering all those years of abuse or the way all adults looked at me as I recanted my accusations. They looked at me with such disdain, as if I were the most evil kind of child in existence when all along I had been telling the truth.
I was sent to spend the summer with my grandmother in New Jersey. My mother told me everything would be better when I got back. I came to Washington State after summer ended to find this:
A hell house in Federal way where she, my sister, and my stepfather all lived together, as if nothing happened. That same night, she and James made a big production of making out in front of me, as if to prove they were not affected by me at all. I was in so much shock. I didn't know what to think, what to feel, what to say. A few nights later, James forced me into the basement to have a "talk". He said, "Sorry, but I didn't want you in the first place. I told your mom to leave you with your dad but she brought you anyway." It was as if he blamed his actions on her. First he blamed me when she confronted him. Next he blamed my mother during our "talk". He blamed everyone but himself.
I went to the bedroom they shared together the next morning. I was trying to find a way to ask her what was going on. What happened to the divorce? Why are we all living in this house together as if nothing ever happened? Before I could ask her any of this, I saw fresh semen on the bed sheets. The covers were pulled back as if she wanted me to see this. I asked her if she was having sex with him and she laughed at me. I never asked the questions that had been stewing inside of me as I saw it would have been pointless. She made her choice.
The next three years were a nightmare. While the physical and sexual abuse had come to an end, the psychological abuse that began was unbearable.
My mother was very harsh with me. Where James had left off beating me, she picked it up hitting me with any hard object she could find. My head was full of lumps as this was her very favorite target. As I went through puberty, I wanted to wear make up and pretty feminine clothes. She would not allow me to do so. James picked up on these conversations and when we were alone, he told me that he would talk to my mother into letting me wear make up and he would buy me clothes if I had sex with him. He told me this when he was driving me to school. It crossed my mind to jump out of a moving vehicle. I told my mother what had transpired that same night and her response was, "I will talk to him about it." Nothing ever came of it.
When I turned 15, I was sent to spend a summer in Japan. During this time, I had sexual relations with an uncle. He initiated the act and I had no ability to say, "Stop." This uncle violated me in a gentle manner. I confused this with consensual sex and thought I was in love with him. When I returned home to Federal Way, I talked with a female friend on the phone about what had transpired. James was listening on the other phone in the basement. The next day, when I thought they both had left for work, I snuck into their bedroom to put on her make up. James came back into the house and confronted me. He told me I HAD to have sex with him or else he would tell my mother what happened. He said, "I know you are not an innocent virgin."
That same night, I told her myself. I told her about her brother and I told her that James attempted to blackmail me into having sex with him or else he would tell her.
Again she said she would, "talk to him". Again nothing happened.
I got into a lot of trouble, acting out in school, began taking prescription drugs and drinking alcohol. I was very promiscuous and emotionally unstable. I attempted suicide on two occasions with prescription medicine. I left home at the age of 15 and never looked back.
I went years without speaking to her as she continued to stay in her marriage. My life was very hard for a long time. Eventually, I got back into school to become a Licensed Practical Nurse.
In January of this year, I was in my mother's company. For whatever reason, I spontaneously asked her what happened when she had called James to confront him all those years ago. What was his reaction? What did they talk about?
She told me that he immediately devised a plan to keep him from going to jail. She told me that he told her exactly what to say to me, to make me willingly recant my accusation. She told me it was his idea to make me believe they would divorce. She used my trust and love for her to get what she wanted. She betrayed me in the worst way a mother could. She is a co-conspirator in a criminal act. Both of them committed terrible crimes against me and neither of them will spend one day in jail for it.
It is because of her that I will never have my day in court. Justice will never find me. While therapy strengthens your coping skills and helps you live with the abuse, only justice will bring closure and peace.
So why did I wait so long to share this story? I suspect there are a multitude of reasons for my silence. I had been conditioned to suffer in silence during my formative years. I relented to the fact that my recantation of my initial accusation would make me unbelievable should I accuse him again. This next event is what helped me to find my voice. My beautiful young sister is graduating from law school this month. Her graduation ceremony is early next month. She told me about her graduation dinner and told me who would be in attendance. Both James and my mother will be there. After much internal struggling, I told my sister I regretfully will be unable to attend this event and I explained why. I told her I cannot stomach her father's presence and could not promise to sit in silence, pretending we are a nice normal family when we all know better. She became upset with me, telling me that he may be sorry for his actions. I responded to her suggesting that if he is really sorry, he should go turn himself in to the police. As we went back and forth, it was as if a switch had been flipped on inside my head. I am done being silent. I am done pretending nothing happened. I am done being a victim.
I am done.
So why am I sharing my story now? I'm telling you because the statute of limitations that expands across four states where the crimes were committed: Arizona, California, Hawaii and Washington, are unfair to the victim. There is no statute of limitations for murder. When a person suffers in the manner I have suffered, a part of that person dies. You can never get it back. The damage that has been done to me is a life long sentence.
These states recognize this and therefore, have no statute of limitations:
Alabama (violent crimes or sex offenses involving persons under 16);
- Alaska (most sexual offenses against children under 18);
- Kentucky (felonies);
- Maine (incest, rape, or gross sexual assault of victim under 16);
- Maryland;
- North Carolina;
- Rhode Island;
- South Carolina;
- Virginia (felonies);
- West Virginia (felonies); and
- Wyoming.
If the crimes against me had occurred in one of the above states, my case would be heard. I would have my opportunity for justice. As it stands, because the statue of limitations has expired for me, it's as if the crimes never occurred at all. I ask of you, where is the justice in that?
While it is too late for me, the best I can do is take any and all action to effect change of this law for the future women who will take many years as I have, to find their voice.
I've heard the argument in favor of the statute of limitations regarding childhood sexual abuse. A woman can accuse an innocent man of rape at anytime. It's not fair to him.
The argument doesn't hold water. In our country, you are innocent until proven guilty. It is still up to the victim to furnish burden of proof. With the statute of limitations, she doesn't get a chance at all.
Unless you have walked our shoes, to tell us that we had plenty of time to press charges is unconscionable. We have undergone years of conditioning. We were threatened, hurt, and brainwashed into keeping silent. Giving us a time limit to "get over it" is sending a callous, cold-hearted message to all abuse victims. Furthermore, this law errs in favor of the alleged perpetrator. It is our conditioning to suffer in silence, the training they ingrained in our minds, that these men are counting on. No abuse victim should be denied their day in court because it took them longer than the Statute of Limitations allows, to find their courage.
My hope is that someone, anyone, who reads this letter, will help me make a stand. Please do not give abusers of children a Get Out Of Jail free card, which is essentially what the statue of limitations is. It victimizes the victim all over again. To ensure I truly have done all I can, I will be collecting signatures to petition for the abolishment of the statute of limitations regarding sexual abuse. When I have 20,000 signatures, I will present it to the legislature. Perhaps, at long last, I will finally be heard.
I will begin collecting signatures on June 15, 2007 at the QFC in Bothell. It is located on Bothell-Everett Hwy. I will not stop until I have enough signatures to get the legislature's attention. Please help me ensure no person will ever be denied their day in court. May justice prevail.
