The Monster Defends His Turf

Dean Paul: The Rattled. Biographical Series About My Childhood. This story deals with domestic violence.

My stepfather had been bruising and abusing my mom for several years, throughout the late seventies and into the eighties. She suffered in silence and seemed to lack the willpower and resources to leave. Not that she hadn’t tried. 

On a couple of occasions she pled her case to the church board. She spoke of the family turmoil and the chokings she was receiving. She told the men that she feared she would be killed. The pastor’s adult son, Bruce, told my mom, “If you stay in the marriage and Dean kills you, then you’ll go to heaven.”

There was another time that I was standing in the church foyer after one of these requests for assistance and I overheard one board member talking to another about my mom. He said, “I guess she still hasn’t learned how to keep her mouth shut.” (I was 11)

After one of the board meetings, my mom had to drive home with Dean Paul, who pulled the vehicle over and choked her so hard she nearly passed out. On another occasion, he drove my mother out to a cornfield and started strangling her. She believed he had driven her out there to kill her, but my mom managed to talk him out of it.  

The church’s desire for the marriage to work and the family to stay together seemed to conflict my mother. The church leadership refused to accept that divorce was an option. That was, until my stepfather went after one of them. 

One Sunday, our car was stolen from the church parking lot. It was found a couple of blocks away. It turned out that the pastor’s teenage son, Danny, had taken it for a ‘joy’ ride. Danny made the mistake of admitting to his crime and mischievously smiled at the monster. Big mistake.

Dean promptly jumped on the boy and began strangling him. Several people had to pull the enraged man from the pastor’s son. This was the turning point where some adults began to realize that we needed an exit strategy. Besides, I think it was getting harder and harder for them to ignore the bruises. 

Me? I was way past that. I was always looking for an escape route when Dean Paul was around. Towards the end, I lived like an animal waiting to bolt at any sign of danger. Survival instinct, my constant companion. Fear, always there.