My story starts out as a little girl being 12 years old, just returning home from school. I was called into the kitchen, "Jessica? Jessica, is that you?" I said "Yes, am home from school." "There’s somebody I’ll like you to meet." I came into the kitchen and there was this tall, heavyset man and his wife sitting in my kitchen. There was a Bible on the table. "Jessica, this is a Minister that I want you to meet. He and his wife are going to help our family." "Oh Jessica, I see that you're a very beautiful little girl. Can you sing?" I sheepishly said "Yes I can sing." "Oh I want you to sing for me."
Right there and then, I was put on the spot and the control had started.
Shaking, I started to sing. I noticed that this was a very persistent man. He was a man that demanded things rather than ask. As I sang my first line, it didn't feel right as when I would normally sing. The freedom wasn't there. That was the beginning.
As time went on, my mother and stepfather began to have some marital problems. They were newlyweds. I was sent to stay with this Pastor and his wife. During this time, I was counselled by his wife, taught how to be a young lady, taught about youth lessons and puberty. It seemed like they really cared. However, as time went on there was a decision made by an organization that I was going stay in their home. I noticed that outside of Church services, things were not the way they were played out in public. I noticed that the Minister's wife was very timid, unsure of everything that she said at home and had to ask for constant reassurance from her husband, the Minister.
During this time, I was slowly moving into a role of not just these people being my Pastors but having more of a parental role. As time went on, the parental role grew and it was time to enrol me into school and they were the ones who did it.
I was staying with this couple for a longer duration and it was after five months of my stay there that the man and his wife started having very visible marital problems. There was a lot of verbal abuse, I could hear slaps from outside of their bedroom door and the intensity just grew. His wife and I were taught to be respectful and obedient to this man, and that was our life.
Time passed, the days started getting colder and the man and the relationship between the man and his wife just started deteriorating more rapidly. One night the man came back home from work and his wife was sleeping. I felt his hot breathe on me. He said “Shhh… You know you want it, don't say anything." Nothing happened that night other than a close encounter with him.
The next morning, his wife went to work. It was this morning that changed my life. I was encouraged to sleep in, although it was a school day. There was a blanket on the floor, and this was the time that I had my first sexual encounter. There was no choice involved. I had said "No!” I said "Am not ready for this! No!" The man proceeded and I was raped and also at that very time, I conceived my first son.
Immediately, the next morning I was wrapped up in the symptoms of pregnancy. I was sick to my stomach and knew something was off with my body. I had also caught Mono, so his wife took me to the doctor. They laughed and joked and thought that I had a boyfriend and they called it the 'kissing' disease.
I was in such shock that it was almost as if I was not here on Earth anymore. I could not believe that the person that I had met and was introduced to as a Minister, went from being my Pastor to a parental role, calling me his daughter to now, I obviously was his victim. I cannot tell you the feeling one has when such confusion has taken place. My mind did not get right until 2010 when I finally was able to escape.
But to back up, this man had his way. His wife had left, she had had enough. It had nothing to do with me and so this made it easier to conceal. I was told to tell people that I had a boyfriend and that this imaginary person was the father of my child. He came up with the name. That's the name that I stuck with and it became a big secret.
I tried to go to school. I went to school for about 2 weeks and during this time my pregnancy symptoms were pretty severe to the point where I could no longer attend and he laughed and said ”There’s a difference between you going to school and school going through you. I can teach you what you need to know." and he named up all of his degrees.
I was pulled out of school. He sent a letter to the school stating that I could no longer attend due to pregnancy. It was during this time that the control just grew to an all-time high. I no longer could wear what I wanted to wear. I no longer could say or do the things that I wanted. I did not feel like I was person anymore. The joy that I had singing praise and worship songs was no longer there. It felt as though I was murdered.
Time passed and people started getting suspicious. My mother demanded for me to come back because at this point she just wasn't sure what was going on. She wasn't sure that the counseling was working and she was very confused about why she was being instructed by this man to keep me. So, she got the Police involved. The man convinced me to tell the police everything was fine. CAS came in and looked in the fridge and saw there was food in the fridge. Things were fine until they made a surprise visit one day and noticed that there was nothing in the fridge and there was no furniture in the home either. There was no evidence that this was going to remain a place to dwell and that concerned them. So the police finally got the truth and pressed charges. It was section 153 of the Criminal Code of Canada, Sexual Exploitation by a Person in a Position of Trust over a Minor.
The Court Case was lengthy. He had made arrangements to stay with a parishioner of the Church, that whole time he had control over the person. How he got the court to believe that this was a neutral party, I don't understand but my mother started showing symptoms of extreme mental breakdown, so at that point it was deemed unfit for me to live there. So, I stayed with the parishioner and the court process continued. He got the same lawyer for me as he had for himself and his control was over the whole court case.
Eventually, the crown dropped the charges because the age of consent was 14 at the time and I had just turned 14. It was my word against his, plus Family Court was wondering what they were going to do with the child that I had conceived.
My son was born and after having him, he was having 'Failure to Thrive'. I was malnourished and my breast milk wasn't sufficient for him. He became very sick and very thin and although the people I was staying with didn't want me to go to the hospital, I chose to go to the hospital and the pressure was on and they asked what's going on? They assumed that I was a mother who could not take care of her child because I was young. So, at that point I was no longer able to care for my son and he was apprehended from my care. My very first born baby boy was taken from my arms. I cannot tell you the pain, because he was my source of strength. I looked at him as a blessing from God, even though he had come to me through such a wrong avenue.
There was a long Family Court battle and we had changed doctors for my son. I did have some control and unfortunately, so did his father because it's very hard to deny a father rights to his child even in cases of abuse. We changed doctors and the doctor found out that the reason why the baby was not thriving was not due to neglect on my part but that he had milk intolerance. It was as simple as that. When CAS returned the baby to my care, they also returned him to the care of my offender.
Shortly after this, we were both kidnapped to the United states, to live a life of turmoil, severe abuse, constant moves, no tie to one community and my life was not my own. I could not mother my child the way a mother should. Everything was under the offender's control.
As time passed, I became the mother of two more children as a result of rape; the same type of rape that happened when I was fourteen years old. The abuse was horrendous. I was physically abused as often as three, four days out of the week. Sometimes, there was a honeymoon phase where sex could kind of, get me out of not being abused. I was not a person. I no longer felt. I was surviving, no longer living.
My children grew. My son and my oldest daughter were being raised to be Youth Ministers. They rebelled against this, because they saw the hypocrisy. They saw their mother beaten, they were beaten.
Time went on and in 2010, that was my year, the tables turned. This very heavyset, tall, strong man no longer had the strength he had once had. He contacted diabetes and the diabetes fluctuated his blood sugar. It would rise high and drop down really low. I started noticing a pattern of weakness when his blood sugar will drop low, and began to plan my escape.
I began to talk to people. I began to find sources of information. I'll go to the library to find out how I can escape but the problem was that escaping meant that I would be committing a crime. It's illegal to leave the States with children that belong to someone else when you don't have the other person's consent. Well, I had to figure out in my own mind how I was going to handle this.
I knew that if anyone knew about the escape, I could get caught and the whole thing could end up in Court and I would remain in the States and my children will be without me until we solved this whole mystery. Well, I took the chance. He had become very very very abusive and the last straw was when I was raped in front of my two girls.
My little three year old was watching 'Dora the Explorer' in a Hotel room and my older daughter was playing with a video game. I was told that I could no longer treat him this way and he wanted what he wanted, and he wanted it now. I was told "You stupid ass bitch, come here right now!” I was thrown on the bed, violently raped and strangled to where my face was turning blue, my older daughter told me.
My oldest daughter tried to pull the phone and get to it but he pulled the cord out of the wall. So, she decided that the best thing to do was to take my little girl to the bathroom and cover her ears.
At this point, I was fighting for my life but I didn't want them to hear all the terror that I was going through. So, I tried to mumble the screams and not make as much of a fuss, to protect them but yet I had to protect myself.
This was the last straw. If he could rape me in front of my girls, I knew at that moment, that he had the potential to do this to my daughters. Any man that could undress himself in front of a thirteen year old and a three year old little girl, has the capacity to do it to them. That's when I realized that I was not his only target.
I got up, his blood sugar dropped again and he fell into a sleep.
We put all of our things inside garbage bags and never looked back.
When I left, still very confused, I realized that I needed to gather up the right documents in order to create a new life for myself. I did not have my Birth Certificate. I did not have either one of my girl's identifications because I never possessed any money of my own and no identification of my own.
So, I began to search. I took the car that was registered to him and apparently, he also had my name on it. I didn't even know that.
In the car was his briefcase. I searched his briefcase for the very first time. I was taught never to go in there and I was terrified that if I ever did, moved a paper; if he noticed anything that was different, that there will be hell to pay. I would have been correct in assuming that because it was told to me.
I found my youngest daughter's Birth Certificate and that gave me my first sense of hope.
After that, I broke the silence to a close friend. I told her what had been happening but I didn't realize that she too was under the same control of this person. I didn't realize this until she started saying the same words that he would say, quoting the same scriptures that he would speak. That's when I realized that am not talking to a person I can confide in, this is just like talking to him.
I told her that I was going to a Shelter, but this was before I realized that I was talking to a person that I could not trust. She told him the name of the shelter that I went to and he showed up there. It jeopardized my position there at the Shelter because that's the number one rule when you're in a Shelter. You cannot tell your offender or anybody that talks to your offender. If you do, you're taught that you jeopardize the safety of all of the women that are in the Shelter.
For me it was more difficult, because not only did I jeopardize the safety by confiding in this person, but the job of a Shelter is to get the women back on their feet. I was not a US citizen, I should never have been in the United States and they could not provide me any references to get Social Services and get me a place. So this meant that I had to make a very long trip and that was way back home.
So, again I trusted someone else. This was a Pastor that he and his wife had been speaking at the Church. Taking my chances, knowing that at any moment they could call him on the cell phone and he could be right there.
I took my chances and the man and his wife went into their office. They came out with an envelope containing three hundred dollars. They asked me "How much would it take to get you home?" after I told them the whole story and explained that this person was not who he said he was, that he was not a person of integrity, etcetera, etcetera.
They cried and they came out with this envelope. I knew the exact amount. It was one hundred and seventy-five dollars in gas alone. That didn't include food, and they said "Well, here is an envelope with three hundred dollars. Call us when you reach safety." They suggested that I try not to stop, only to make rest stops. They said that if he came there, they were going to act as if I had never been there.
So, I left the shelter that day. It was just in time because the Shelter had told me that he had arrived and that it was definitely not safe for me to be there.
It was at that point that I had left to Detroit, Michigan and I had sought out the Bishop that had ordained him. She had a Safe Home for abused women and I went there. She informed me that even he didn't know where this location was.
So, I went there. I felt safe and it was there that I was able to locate my daughter's Birth Certificate in the State of Michigan.
At that point, I had both my daughter's Birth Certificates, still not my own but I would take my chances and cross the Border that night.
When I crossed the Border, it seemed as if an angel was at the Border. Here I was driving a vehicle that was improperly plated, had no insurance, and had a brake light missing. It was heavy rain that night and all the woman asked me was "Are you going to visit your mum?". She asked the children, "Are you going to visit Grandma?" when I said I was Canadian returning home. I kept it simple because I knew that had I went through a long drawn out thing, that things could get held up right there at the Border. It was as though an Angel had let me through the Border that night.
I pulled into the 'Burger King' parking lot. Everything was different in Windsor because the last time I was there, I was just a young girl riding my bike around. Everything was different.
I pulled into the 'Burger King', the girls were sleeping in the back seat. I put my head on the steering wheel and finally I could breather my first breathe of freedom.
The journey wasn't over because in Canada, there was a long fight.
Fifteen years, I was in captivity. Fifteen years, told what to wear, what not to wear, who to talk to, "Make my meals this way. If you don't do it, this is what's going to happen to you." Fifteen years of making sure that vacuum lines were perfectly aligned in the Carpet or else I was going to be beaten. Fifteen years of being called the title "Stupid ass bitch". Every single day of the Fifteen years, that was my name in front of my children.
I had had enough. I had had enough and I realized that night when I was viciously raped in front of my two girls that he had the potential and would most likely do the same to them. I was determined that that was not going to happen. They would never feel the pain and torture that I felt. They were never going to feel less than a person, because I had the fight. I had the fight in me and now I was free.
For the first time, I was able to look outside and appreciate the birds, appreciate the warm breeze of summer; it was June.
I still had quite a battle to go through. It certainly wasn't over but I was free. Free to tell a lawyer what I wanted to tell her, free to obtain custody of my two girls, free to be an asset to society. Yes after all that pain, I was determined to be an asset to society. I was going to be a part of the solution. I was not going to be a negative statistic.
That's what victims need to realize. You can stay a victim or you can become a victor by simply wanting to live and not merely survive.
Now my life is different. I choose the colours of my home, I choose the furniture that's going to go in my home, I choose what clothing my children are going to wear with pride and joy, enjoying every inch of the moment. We choose as a family what organizations we're going to volunteer in.
I am happily married to the love of my life. This man is an angel from heaven. This man respects me. This man is so protective but not in a controlling way, in a loving way. When a woman is properly treated, she wants to please her husband out of love. She doesn't have to be told to do anything, controlled to do anything. This is the new joy that I have found.
I have a father that demonstrates the love that a man should show his wife, the love that a man should show his children. I have a beautiful little boy as well and we as a family are proud to be a part of the solution.
Life is good. We are part of the solution for society, not a negative statistic.
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