THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SATURDAY, June 25, 1994 TAG: 9406250214
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY DENISE WATSON, STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: 940625 LENGTH: Long
It didn't matter if it was an overcast day, shades were the only way to hide the red marks. The foundation she wore to the beach was too thick, but she had to cover the scars her boyfriend left behind.
{REST} ``After he first assaulted me, I guess I was in shock,'' said the 36-year-old Norfolk woman.
``I didn't call the police . . . he threatened to kill me and my children. I was scared to death.''
The publicity of the Nicole Brown Simpson murder has brought domestic violence and its victims storming to the surface. O.J. Simpson, charged with killing his ex-wife, once beat her so severely that she sought hospital care for split lips, head bruises and a black eye.
Battered women and their advocates are afraid that his violent past might be lost in the ``fallen hero'' image of the present.
But while they are angry, they are not surprised.
It's typical, they say, in a society of passive arrest policies, judges and police officers who don't understand the phases and psychology of domestic violence, restraining orders that are nothing but sheaves of paper without enforcement, and suspended sentences for the batterers.
Morrison learned about the judicial problems firsthand when, after a second attack, she went to police. During a February court hearing this year, her boyfriend was found guilty of assault and battery for the second attack, but it is the judge's words that Morrison will never forget.
`` `If you were screaming like you said you were screaming, for as long as you had been screaming, someone would've come out to help,' '' Morrison says the judge told her.
``The judicial system needs to put more importance on this. With the O.J. case . . . it's apparent that he was abusive and he was never made to be responsible. The police and the judicial system never made him responsible.''
Portsmouth police officer Mike Coker said he wouldn't be surprised if the police officers who responded to the Simpson household for numerous 911 calls left with nothing more than an autograph.
``I'm a fan of O.J.'s, but I'm also a fan of (stopping) domestic violence,'' Coker said.
``She couldn't be a victim of domestic violence, but she could be a victim of homicide,'' he said of Nicole Simpson. ``It doesn't make sense . . . we're dealing with a lot of historic and primitive views here, and we all need to do more.''
It's estimated that from 2.1 million to more than 8 million women in the United States - 26,000 in Virginia - are victims of domestic violence each year. How they are helped varies from state to state and city to city.
Locally, policies on arresting abusive spouses vary widely. Virginia Beach leads the way as the only city in the state that has a detective unit designed to deal with domestic violence.
In Suffolk, however, police ``don't see domestic violence as a police matter. It's a matter for the courts and Social Services,'' said Mike Simpkins, public information officer for the department.
He gives an example of why Suffolk police are hesitant to press charges:
``Say you have a woman who's cheating around on her husband. Her husband comes home and finds out, he beats her up, messes up the house, and she calls the police. She calls the police and tells them that her husband has beat her up.
``Now, see, that's not completely true because she didn't give them all the details.''
So while some cities are making strides, others are taking their time. And as they wait, abuse victims suffer from the judicial neglect.
Thelma had been married for a year and a half when she could no longer take being beaten, choked and raped by her husband. She asked that her last name not be used for this story because she still fears her husband, who is awaiting trial.
Every time the 22-year-old woman tried to leave, he refused to let her take their infant daughter with her. Thelma would stay.
In early February, she went to court for a protective order. She told the judge about the abuse and threats, and the judge granted the protective order - but he referred the couple to mediation and gave the father every-other-day visitation with the child.
The next day, Thelma handed over her 4-month-old daughter for visitation, but her husband didn't return the next day. She called the police but was told the judge hadn't issued written orders on when the father was supposed to return the child. She'd have to go back to court. A court date was set for the following week, but it was too late.
Thelma's husband was charged with felony child abuse and the murder of his daughter. Police said the child was suffocated with a pillow.
``It's a tragedy. But it happens because the courts still don't realize the dynamics of domestic violence,'' said Susan Garvey, a psychologist who specializes in working with battered women and is working with Thelma. Thelma is still too traumatized to talk about the incident.
Garvey said the child's life could have been saved if authorities had understood some basic psychology about domestic violence - couples should not be referred for counseling together until the batterer gets treatment for abusive behavior. Also, batterers live by control and domination, and giving the batterer easy access to the child gave him what he needed to continue to control his wife.
``Her husband used that baby as a pawn, where the child was not seen as a person but as a means of control and manipulation. . . . Now a child is dead, and she isn't the first.''
Theresa, another abuse victim, also went to the courts for help. She left ``feeling like they didn't care if I lived or died at all.''
Theresa is married to a man who has beaten and threatened to kill her throughout their 14-year marriage.
When she left him last year, the abuse continued as he stalked her, left notes on her car and told her friends that Theresa would soon die.
She requested a protective order that was denied because he had visitation rights with their daughter. He was charged with stalking, but the charge was dismissed because of errors in the court papers.
Now, the 34-year-old Portsmouth woman has a .38-caliber gun she calls ``Fred.''
``I've completely given up on the legal system. I've asked them time and again to protect me, so I guess I'll just have to protect myself,'' Theresa said, holding her handbag with the gun tucked inside.
``He sat in front of my job one day for five hours with a gun and they (the police) tell me they couldn't do anything until he touches me. And if he touches me, I'll be the one going to prison for murder.''
{KEYWORDS} SPOUSE ABUSE WIFE BEATING ASSAULT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE
by CNB