Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (19 page)

“DERRICK! GET UP HERE! NOW!” I wailed. It was a scream I didn’t know I was capable of. “What?” he casually asked. “GET UP HERE RIGHT NOW!” I shrieked. I didn’t care who heard me, or if anybody thought I was a psycho bitch of a girlfriend. If he had allowed my baby to get that hurt in the little time I was at the grocery store, he was in really big trouble! He took his time, and appeared about a minute later. I showed him what I was hoping would not be a nightmare and asked, “What the hell is this?” I was trying not to scare Zoe any more than I probably already had. His response was one that twisted my stomach. It was vague and nonchalant. He shrugged his shoulders, his lips tightened up in an awkward way, and said, “I don’t know. Do you wanna go to the emergency room?” I didn’t like the way he was acting. He wasn’t concerned enough. If I went to the emergency room, I was not going with him by my side. I told him I had to think about it and that he should go back downstairs. I had to gather my thoughts and try not to panic.

I dressed Zoe in her outfit and thought about what I should do. What if one of the guys downstairs had done something to her? I wanted every person in the house to be questioned and tortured until there was an answer. Should I just call 911? That way, while everyone is here, the police can report it on record. Is this really happening? This is a parent’s worst nightmare. Why me? Why my 19 month old baby who is completely innocent and doesn’t deserve any sort of pain, torture, or abuse? It suddenly sunk in. I was lying on her bed with her on my chest. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks as I rubbed her head. “I’m so, so sorry.” I whispered. She was falling asleep. “I love you so much Zoe. Mommy is so, so sorry she didn’t protect you.” I quietly cried. I looked up at the ceiling, hoping for a miracle. I started to beg God. I begged him to take it back. I begged him to let me wake up from this bad dream. I held my baby, who may have gone through the most terrifying thing ever and prayed. I don’t know how long I was with her, but right as she woke up Derrick came back into the room. “Everyone left. What do you wanna do? You know if you take her to the hospital they will probably call CPS and the kids will be taken away again. I’m not saying you shouldn’t, but I can fix this up myself and she’ll be fine in a few weeks.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Just as drugs are normal in his world, he was attempting to eliminate the severe nature of the injury that my daughter had somehow sustained. I didn’t reply except for a nod and a mumble. He left again to resume his video games. After putting Zoe’s shoes on and zipping up her coat, I told him I was going to get Chloe and walked out the front door. Maybe I was seeing things. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I was making it out to be. I needed Megan to tell me what I didn’t want to hear. I needed her opinion.

“Um…yeah. Kylee has had rashes before but never anything like that.” she said. She was high. She had foil on her table and had been smoking meth. Why was she not panicking? If my 19-month old baby had been assaulted, why was no one else panicking? I didn’t understand. I was confused and scared and heartbroken for my child. I didn’t think I could get through it.

Zoe was excited to see her sister, and toddled her way toward the toys. She seemed fine. They all ran back to Kylee’s bedroom. I sat down at the kitchen table and smoked with Megan. I don’t know why. The very thing that had been a factor in my daughter’s assault was in complete control of me. I just couldn’t say no. If it was in my face, I was ingesting it. It tricked me. It tricked me into thinking that I was superior and only good things would be in my future. It tricked me into believing that Derrick, his brother, and their friends were “cool” people to be around. It stole my perception of reality, and it made me like the distortion.

After getting my energy back, I called my sister. She was still dating Huey. He was a doctor, and he would be able to tell me for certain what was going on. Lilah answered her phone, “Hey Liz, what are you doing?” she asked. I told her what was happening, and she also responded casually. “Liz, I’m sure it’s fine. Just bring her over and I’ll have Huey tell us what he thinks.” I left Chloe to play with Kylee and drove to Huey’s house. I told them what had happened at my house when I woke up to get Zoe dressed. Huey looked for only a few seconds. “It looks like the injury is maybe twelve to twenty-four hours old.” I knew what he was implying. I put Zoe back into her car seat and we went to the hospital. Lilah and Huey were following behind me.

Nothing will ever justify my actions and make them okay. Yes, I was young, had a severe lack of judgment, and very poor decision making skills. I have yet to find a psychiatrist to help me understand why I made so many mistakes. I think about it every day. Just like you, I also want to know why. I want answers that I may never have. I want the justice that was never served. I get so mad at myself. I took for granted the precious time that I had with my children - my gifts from God. They could have only come straight from heaven. The devil stole them from me. Drugs had taken over my life, and bad people gloated about my grief. Demons were laughing as I was signing a no-suicide contract. The devil was whispering over my shoulder that this was all just pretend.

The local hospital confirmed the nature of the injury and directed me to transport Zoe to the U.C. Davis Medical Center. They said that if I didn’t take her they would have her go via ambulance. Megan brought Chloe to the hospital and offered to take me. Before leaving the hospital in Tahoe, I called my mom to tell her what was going on. It was late, and she was already asleep. “Hello?” she answered, sounding disoriented. “Mom!” I began to cry from hearing her voice. “Derrick hurt Zoe!” I sobbed. “Gosh damn it, Liz! That’s why you stay away from screwed up guys like Derrick!” she yelled. She was shocked and angry. “Dan and I found drug paraphernalia when we were cleaning my house after you left. You guys trashed the place. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but it’s not you!” she angrily said. I guess she had been suspicious for a while but just didn’t want to make me mad by bringing it up. It would have made me mad but only at myself, because she was the last person I wanted to disappoint. “I’ll come to the hospital tomorrow. Keep your phone on.” She hung up.

The drive was dark and long. The first night at the hospital I was grief-stricken. I was asked if I wanted to talk to the chaplain. I declined. Extensive testing was done on both girls. It gave me hope that answers would be found. I didn’t think anything could possibly get worse. I held my baby as she was injected with anesthesia and collapsed in my arms for surgery. The emotional pain was agonizing and relentless. I held Chloe until she fell asleep on the second night. Then I held Zoe when she woke up crying in the children’s hospital bed resembling a cage. I couldn’t handle this. Megan went to her mother’s house, which was an hour away to clean up. The girls and I were alone in the intensive care unit filled with very sick babies, but I still felt like we were alone.

I saw a crowd of medical professionals rushing a baby across the hallway in a wheeled cage, while performing CPR. It was a sad place, and the energy was wrong. I had to call Josh. I needed him. The girls needed their daddy. I was crying as I explained what was happening. Although the drive was two hours, he walked into the hospital room only forty-five minutes later. Zoe was sleeping and Chloe was restlessly sleeping on the tiny fold out chair we were sharing. He came in and sat down next to me. He held me and just let me cry. He told me it wasn’t my fault. He told me that he loved me. “I love you too,” I replied, choking up. He told me that I was a good mom. When the girls woke up they were excited to see their daddy - the only man that should have been in their life.

The on-call doctor walked in. She was a short, black woman wearing all white and holding a clipboard. “I have some bad news. I’m sick to my stomach for you. I have a two-year-old son, and I can’t fathom what you’re going through. We found traces of methamphetamine in her system.” “WHAT?” I grabbed my stomach and keeled over. “What the hell is going on?” I cried. I couldn’t take any more of this. Why, why, WHY? I had been abusing drugs, but I always made sure that the girls weren’t close enough to be exposed, and I always kept any paraphernalia out of their sight and reach. The doctor made it seem as if someone had deliberately fed her the drugs. My baby had been tortured, and I wasn’t there to save her!

My first instinct told me that Derrick had done it. I began piecing things together. I had to have an answer immediately. I couldn’t endure this without knowing whom to blame. It all made sense, but it didn’t matter anymore because it was too late.

In an instant, I went from being treated with sympathy and dignity, to being looked down on and questioned by the hospital, child protective services, and the police. I wanted to get back to Tahoe immediately to speak with detectives so they could arrest Derrick. I hadn’t made any contact with him since I last saw him. He had left at least a hundred messages on my phone, wanting to “check in” and see how we were doing. That made me sick. I had to go home and confront him. Josh agreed to stay at the hospital with Zoe the entire time I would be gone. I was hoping to be back the next day.

Josh had an aunt that lived nearby, and she offered to come to the hospital to take Chloe to her house so she would be out of that horrible environment. I was happy to see her walk in before I left. Her young daughter was with her and I remembered seeing her at our wedding. They had gifts for the girls - baby dolls and books. I felt even better about leaving the hospital. I kissed the girls goodbye and gave Josh a hug. I regretted leaving him. I wondered if he would ever be able to look past that. I wondered, for a moment, if we could ever realistically work out again. Josh made me feel safe. I had a new respect for him, and I knew that he would never, ever harm our beautiful babies.

Megan drove me back home. We stopped at a gas station so she could get gas. I went inside to get a drink. “How are you today?” The polite cashier asked me. How am I supposed to answer that? She really doesn’t want to know, I thought.

When a tragedy is in your path, the world still goes on. Life continues whether we want it to or not. The world keeps spinning, the seasons keep changing, and the sun continues to rise and set. I cried and cried and ached.

My first meeting with the detective wasn’t what I expected. It was more like an interview or an interrogation. He played the good cop at first. I walked into the police station eager to cooperate in any way possible. I trusted him. His name was Detective Olden. He was a tall, skinny man. He initially spoke to me with respect and let me speak without interruption. The tables turned quickly. He was now the bad cop. Once he realized that there was drug use going on, he turned against me and he went hard. I cried and fessed up to doing drugs - hoping that even if my honesty put me in jail, it would at least solve the crime. The first interview was over, and I was even more heartbroken.

That night I was planning on driving back to the hospital. There was a blizzard, and my car didn’t do too well in the snow. When Josh called me and said that Child Protective Services were taking Chloe from his aunt and that Zoe would also be taken when she got out of the hospital, I panicked and got in my car. I wanted to get there to be by Zoe’s side as much as I could. If they were going to take her, I wanted to tell her I loved her first. I just wanted to be there. As I began driving through the terrible storm, Josh called me again. “Josh, have they given you any sort of paperwork or anything? How do you know for sure that they are taking them?” I asked. “They haven’t done anything except tell me they are taking Chloe and Zoe. I didn’t even do anything wrong. They need to let me take them home,” he said. “Take Zoe home then! If they don’t have a Court Order they can’t possibly just take her!” I cried. “Just stay there and we’ll figure it out when I get there okay?” I concluded.

We got off the phone just in time. There was a chain stop ahead, and I had to find a way to get chains put on my tires. This was the only way I could get to my baby. I pulled into the gas station and walked up to a door that read CLOSED. I saw a woman in the store counting her register. I had arrived five minutes too late. I didn’t care. I was getting in that store and getting chains to make it over the summit. I knocked loudly on the glass door. The woman looked at me from a distance. “I’m sorry, but we are closed.” I began crying. “Please help me! I need to buy chains to get to the hospital. My baby is at U.C. Davis and I need to get to her. I would do whatever it took to be by my baby’s side to help comfort her. The woman must have had sympathy because she unlocked the door to let me in. “What do you need ma’am?” she asked. “I need chains to get over the mountain.” She ran to the back of the store and brought out cables because they were all she had left. I paid and she wished me luck. As I was headed toward the hill that would eventually lead me to Sacramento, I saw that the road was blocked off with chain control. Everything was white. The big digital emergency alert billboard was right above the chain control.

As I got closer, I realized that it wasn’t displaying a road condition warning as I had expected it to. It was displaying a bright, flashing Amber Alert. I instantly knew what it was. Josh had taken Zoe out of the hospital. I pulled up to chain control and told them that I had no idea how to put chains on. I tried to compose myself and not act paranoid. The man was very nice, and he put the chains on for me as I sat in the driver’s seat. “You know ma’am, keep an eye out for a green Subaru. There’s an Amber Alert. A little girl went missing from U.C. Davis hospital.” “Oh, wow,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Where are you heading?” he asked. “To Sacramento. My daughter is in that hospital, sick, right now,” I replied. By the look on his face, I think he knew something was up. He didn’t say anything else and wished me luck as I drove off. I called Josh’s cell phone repeatedly to no avail. Finally, as I was driving to the steep and dangerous part of the summit, he called. “Josh! What happened and where are you?” I asked. “They put a tracking device around Zoe’s ankle. It pissed me off. I took it off of her and walked out. I started driving, but I’m out of gas so I am parked behind a gas station.” “Is Zoe okay?” I asked. “Yeah, she’s sleeping right now. We are lying down in the back seat.” I started to cry as I pictured my baby contently cuddled up with her daddy - knowing that she would soon be torn away from him. “I am going to try to find you. I’ll call you when I get closer to your area, okay?” We hung up.

As I started to climb even higher up the mountain, thousands of feet above sea level, the weather got more and more intense. I could not see five feet in front of me. Fatigue was kicking in, and I started seeing things that weren’t there. I thought I saw the road turn into an intersection, but it did not. If I had gone left, I would have driven right off the mountain. God was telling me that the girls would be okay and I should turn around, go back and rest. I had been with Megan at her house the entire time I was in town, so I had not gone home to rest. I turned around and went back to Tahoe.

I continued to try to get ahold of Josh on the phone to explain why I didn’t make it to Sacramento and to make sure he and Zoe were okay, but he never answered his phone. I figured that the police had found him, arrested him, and took Zoe back to the hospital. I later learned that Josh was in jail over the “kidnapping,” and he would possibly be released in a day or two. When I found out that he was placed in the Sacramento county jail, I worried about his safety. He is not much of a fighter, and if he were to talk too much (his ADHD always caused him to ramble) he might have some trouble. I hoped he was okay, and I felt really bad for him.

I pulled into my driveway praying that I wouldn’t find Derrick and his brother lounging around like they owned the place. I quietly walked up to the glass sliding door where I could see into the house before entering. The door was unlocked and all was quiet. I cautiously walked in and saw that the kitchen was a disaster. I investigated further and noticed that my brand new computer was gone. Everything was trashed. “Why, God? Why does this have to be happening?” I cried again. I broke down, feeling completely defeated. I fell to the kitchen floor and just sat there crying. I couldn’t breathe. I was so overwhelmed, worried for Josh, worried about who would be comforting Zoe when she was taken back to the hospital, and worried about Chloe and where CPS would be taking her. I couldn't handle this! It was late, cold, and dark.

I suddenly realized that this was the perfect way to get Derrick put in jail - from now until the crime was solved. I picked up my phone and called 911. “What’s your emergency?” the operator asked. “Yes, my house has been broken into, and I need an officer to come and make a report.” Two officers showed up less than five minutes later. They were very nice. I told them what had been going on and how I was suspicious that Derrick was the one responsible. The officers made me feel like I was a person and not a piece of trash.

As I was searching through the desk for the computer manual to determine the make and model for the police report, I came across a small bag with white residue. I did not recognize this bag, and I knew it was not from my use because I always threw them away. I gave it to the officers for evidence. As I went into my downstairs bathroom to pee, I noticed that Derrick had spit in my sink. It was tinged with brown. Derrick knew that this was one thing that highly upset me and grossed me out. It was disrespectful and lazy of someone to not just rinse it down the drain. He must have done this on purpose. I pointed it out to the officers and said that I knew for certain it was not there before I initially left. They took a sample of it for further evidence. They left my house to try to retrieve my computer, which would be held for evidence.

About thirty minutes later I got a call saying that Derrick had been arrested for burglary, and he did have my computer. I was so relieved. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about him trying to show up at my apartment. It was around midnight, and there was nothing left to do except try to sleep.

I went up to my room wondering what I would use to replace my bedding that he had also slept in. I wanted every trace of him out of my house and far away from me, forever. I decided that I would sleep in Chloe and Zoe’s room. As I got into Zoe’s bed, I noticed an old tube of ointment that I had used for my tattoo on her dresser. I knew for a fact that I did not put it there; I would have no reason to. I picked it up and snapped the lid open. It was tinged with blood. Oh my God. He tried to fix her injury with ointment for Christ’s sake! This was evidence, and I would take it to the detective tomorrow. I now regretted picking it up because I was afraid I smeared the fingerprints that would surely name the suspect. I hoped that traces of whatever happened would surely be prominent on the blood-tinged lid. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t stop picturing what might have happened to Zoe. I wondered if it happened in the very room I was laying in. I grabbed Zoe’s stuffed animal and went to Chloe’s bed. I fell asleep, tightly holding Chloe and Zoe’s stuffed animals, soaking them with my tears. I could smell both my girls, and I could almost feel their sweet, innocent presence. I ached for them so badly. I ached, knowing that they did not understand why I wasn’t there with them. Small children have only one thing that their world revolves around and that is their parents. They don’t understand much of anything else but the fact that their parents are always there to bring them comfort and make them feel safe. I wasn’t there to do this for them, and the fear that they were suffering was ripping my heart out. I eventually fell asleep. I periodically woke up, crying throughout the night.