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I
usually don't beg
for money. My mother taught me better than that. But recently I
signed
a fund-raising letter begging people to send in whatever they could,
because I just can't stand this anymore.
Maybe you received one of my letters, which was sent on the
letterhead of the Arizona Coalition Against Domestic Violence. If
you read it, you know why I signed it. If you didn't, I'll tell you
why. I signed it because I'm watching the domestic violence
situation in Arizona grow increasingly worse - not better, worse -
and I must help the one statewide organization that specifically
focuses on the issue.
Do you know how bad things have gotten?
If you own a business you probably know, because domestic violence
costs American businesses about $3 billion to $5 billion each year
through hundreds of thousands of days in lost productivity.
If you're in the legal profession, you certainly know, because
domestic violence accounts for half of all female homicides, and
every 30 minutes an officer files a report about domestic violence
witnessed by an Arizona child.
If you're in the medical field, a day doesn't go by when a battered
person doesn't seek medical help in Arizona, so you know what a
problem it is.
And if you're an educator, you've been trained to spot signs of
abuse in your charges, and you know how often those suspicions are
reported to authorities.
But you don't even need professional exposure. If you're an Arizona
citizen, you undoubtedly know someone who's been abused or is being
abused. Domestic violence affects one in three Arizona residents.
One in three!
As shocking as all of that is, it isn't as shocking as the reason I
signed the only fund-raising letter I've ever lent my name to.
Four years ago, Arizona ranked 16th nationally in the number of
women killed by men in cases of domestic violence. Today, we're
number two. There's only one other state in which it is more deadly
to be a woman than Arizona.
That's why I begged.
I still remember the moment, nearly 15 years ago, when I knew I had
to fight against domestic violence.
I was writing for New Times then, and didn't know a thing about
domestic violence. But one night I was watching a made-for-TV movie
about a woman who was paralyzed by her abusive husband while police
stood by, and it brought me to tears. My friend, John, called right
about then, and I had to explain why I was crying. "I know how you
feel," he told me, and then he relayed a shocking story about one of
his employees. She was getting constant death threats from her
ex-husband, and the police were doing nothing. John had been
searching in vain to find help for her.
Over time, I'd get to know that particular woman very well. When I
wrote about her, I called her "Alice." I spent months researching
the problem, finding experts, reading reports, learning the
terrifying stories and being sickened at each turn.
In December 1989, New Times devoted most of its issue to my
five-story investigation. On the cover, we printed one of the notes
that had been left for Alice: "recess is over now the fun begins!!
I've been in your house i saw you last Friday now you die." [sic]
Here's how my story of Alice began:
"By the time her answering machine recorded the ugly promise of
death, Alice knew nobody would help her….
"'It's not easy being a killer,' the disguised voice said. 'I'll be
there at
2:30 tomorrow morning. Do not lock the door… If you try to get away,
I'll kill you….' In the short message after the beep, this man she
once loved used the word 'kill' six times.
"She asked the police officer what she should do. He said he didn't
know. She remembers watching him walk out the door without a single
word of help. He didn't suggest she go to a women's shelter. He
didn't suggest she go visit friends. He didn't suggest a patrol car
outside. He didn't suggest a thing. He just wrote down yet another
of her cries for help and left her alone to face whatever showed up
at 2:30 the next morning."
If Alice's story didn't get to you, I also compiled a devastating
list we titled All in the Family: A Year of Murder. In 1989, the
city of Phoenix recorded 29 domestic violence homicides. Among them
were 15 women killed by their husbands, ex-husbands or boyfriends;
three children who died in domestic disturbances; and two friends
giving shelter to women who were murdered.
That was a bad year in Phoenix. I noted that only 1983 had been more
deadly in that decade, when 32 people were killed. On average, some
22 died of domestic violence each year in the 1980s.
I first met Dianne Post of the Arizona Coalition during that
research - she's been a source and a friend ever since - and she
used those stories to good advantage. She took them to the
Legislature and they helped move lawmakers to change a whole slew of
laws. Domestic violence was made a more serious crime; police were
trained to deal with the problem; abusers were held longer; and the
whole issue became a community cause as new and expanded shelters
offered a place to escape.
Since then, the media in this city have made domestic violence a
major issue. The Arizona Republic even helped raise tens of
thousands of dollars to fund more shelter beds. Education programs
have been plentiful. I'm most encouraged that groups like M.A.N.
have been formed - an acronym for Men's Anti-Violence Network, this
group includes some 80 high-profile businessmen, including
broadcaster Hugh Downs, developer Gary Herberger, sports mogul Jerry
Colangelo, Fennemore-Craig partner Andy Federhar, Phoenix City
Council member Phil Gordon and General Dynamics' John Cole.
And so, it breaks my heart to report that we've all been abject
failures. In fact, it would be merciful if only 29 homicides were
due to domestic violence these days. Instead, in 1999, 98 people in
Arizona were killed in domestic violence attacks. In 2000, it was
106 people. In 2001, it was 92. In 2002, it was 86.
The Violence Policy Center in Washington, D.C., now says Arizona
ranks behind only Mississippi in the number of women murdered by men
they once loved.
The goal of the Arizona Coalition Against Domestic Violence is
pretty obvious from its name. It lobbies for stronger laws and
support for domestic violence shelters ("aggravated harassment" is
now a felony, thanks to them); it mans a legal hotline; has a
speakers' bureau and training program; it keeps track of domestic
homicides; and it has just launched the Battered Mother's Testimony
Project - one of seven programs in the nation to monitor domestic
relations courts, which too often have failed to protect battered
mothers and their children.
But most of all, it's noisy. The coalition doesn't hesitate to speak
up on injustices, on backsliding, on mistakes. So it was no surprise
that recently it took on the Arizona Board of Executive Clemency,
more commonly known as the Parole Board.
I've covered this board and watched it in action for years. I know
it as a very conservative, cautious group. So the board shocked me,
too.
Imagine this: A man twice - not once, but twice - terrorizes and
threatens to kill his estranged wife. He kidnaps her, ties her to a
bed, forces her to perform oral sex, hauls in gas to set her on
fire, and cuts the phone and electric lines after she's had the
locks changed - all that, and the guy gets a measly three-year
sentence.
Did it help that this man, Rex Waite, was a former Pima County
assessor and had led the county's Republican Party from 1994 to
1996? Maybe. It certainly didn't hurt him at the Parole Board, which
first expedited his case and then allowed him to plead for mercy
just a few months after his sentence - most convicts have to wait
years to get the Board's ear - and then voted unanimously to set him
free.
Not only did the coalition go nuts, but so did a long list of Pima
County organizations, as well as Tucson's mayor and City Council,
which passed a resolution asking then-Governor Jane Hull to not give
Waite clemency.
"The expedited recommendation for clemency demonstrates a double
standard," says Patrick Jordan of the newly formed Tucson Men
Against Domestic Violence. "It sends the message that the kidnapping
and assault of a spouse is less egregious than the same act by a
stranger. We will never be able to stop domestic violence unless we
hold batterers and assailants accountable."
Micah Schmidt, Pima County's deputy attorney, argues, "This state,
this country, has struggled far too long with leveling inequalities
to elevate Mr. Waite with extraordinary treatment."
Dianne Post of the coalition warns that Arizona cannot afford to
send the message that "violence will be excused because of political
connections."
Thankfully, Governor Hull left office with the clemency order still
sitting on her desk. There is little fear that new Governor Janet
Napolitano would sign such an awful thing.
But the case, which emerged in mid-December when most attention was
focused on the holidays, emphasizes that we still have a long way to
go. And so do those horrible numbers of lives lost to violence.
"You have the power to break the chains of pain," our fund-raising
letter says. "Every contribution will be used to buy freedom for
battered women."
I don't beg often. But this is something that's worth begging for.
For more information, contact the Arizona Coalition Against Domestic
Violence at 100 W. Camelback, Suite 109, Phoenix, AZ 85013;
602-279-2900 or 800-782-6400; or visit
www.azcadv.org.
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