Long Blue Line: Based on a True Story (41 page)

When I got the courage to tell my family that I had married Derrick, I was surprised and also relieved that they went out of their way to congratulate me. They were showing their support for me the best way that they could, even if they didn't want to.

The binges quickly resumed, and it wasn't long before Casie fell back into it as well. At this point, it took a lot to get me high, and it almost seemed like I needed it just to feel normal. We mostly hung out over at Donnie’s and Casie's house because it was easier for them since they had the new baby. Donnie was beginning to lose his temper even though the baby was only a couple weeks old. When the baby would cry, he would yell at him. Derrick tried to step in and say something to Donnie, but it didn't have any impact. Donnie was high and back to his meth-induced psychosis type behavior. When Casie was at the store with her mom, and she had left the baby in Donnie’s care, and there were a few times that I almost couldn't handle the circumstances that he would put his baby in. He was revving up a remote control car inside the house, and it actually had fumes blowing out of it. The baby was only 2 feet away. Right away, I went and picked the baby up hoping that I wouldn't upset Donnie. Luckily I didn't, and he seemed like he was more relieved that I was tending to his baby. Another time, the baby had a dirty diaper. I told Derrick, and I offered to change him, but Derrick insisted that his brother change him. "It's his son, he needs to learn how to do things like this." Donnie was very rough with his baby. There was nothing calm, or gentle about the way that he handled him. It upset me and gave me pretty bad anxiety.

When Casie got back from the store, we sat on the couch and talked for hours while the guys were working on electrical stuff. The little baby was fussy and he seemed like he had a tummy ache. I could tell Casie was tired, and she was overwhelmed and didn't know what to do. I offered to hold the baby, and she gladly handed him over. I put him on his tummy, on my knees, and rocked him back and forth. He fell asleep within just a few minutes. Casie asked me questions about what to do if this happens, or what not to do if that happens. I gave her the best advice that I could, and I knew that she was paying attention. My main fear was that she trusted Donnie, naturally, because he was the baby's father. I didn't know how to tell her that he was scaring me without it offending her.

Later that night after the guys had come inside, the baby woke up again and was crying. The second that Casie handed the baby to Donnie he baby started screaming even louder and more intensely. It was almost as if the baby was afraid of his own father, even though he was only a newborn and most would think that a newborn wouldn't know the difference. Donnie began throwing the baby in the air as if he were a father playfully tossing his toddler in the air. The baby's head was bouncing back and forth because he had no control over his muscles in his neck yet. "Bro, you don't do that with a newborn baby. You're gonna end up breaking his neck. He just wants to be held still and in a calm environment." Derrick tried his best to intervene, but Donnie wasn't trying to hear any of it. "No, he's just fine. I don't know how else to make him shut up." I saw the look of fear and rage come over Derrick’s face and he looked my way. "Let's get out of here." We left right then, without even saying goodbye.

When we got home, as I was folding laundry I was trying to think of a way that I could anonymously make a report. I always thought that I would never wish the CPS on my worst enemy, but this was a case that would be warranted. I wondered if Lilah would be willing to make a report for me. Lilah hates me, what am I thinking. Derrick and I talked about what we had witnessed. "I can tell you this right now, we are not going over there anymore. I'm sick of getting high all the time, and that baby is going to end up dead. I want nothing to do with it." "Neither do I, that's the last thing that we need right now. But imagine how you would feel if something actually did happen to the baby and we could have prevented it." He nodded his head in agreement, but he still didn't know what to do. I had decided in my mind that the next time I spoke with one of my friends, I would see if I could get them to make an anonymous report for me. That way I wouldn't feel like I was in the middle of it.

Derrick stayed true to his word, and we did not return to their house. I could tell that he was getting tired of the self-destruction, and he had an overwhelming sense of fear for his nephew but simply didn't know how to go about it. We were starting to get along again, and it was probably because we had been sober for a few days. We talked about our daughter, and our plans to move to Texas, and how nice it was going to be to finally get away from the chaos. This time around, every single inch of me wanted to leave this town. It had become dark and unpredictable. It felt lonely, and every time I left the house to go out in public, I had a severe panic attack. It turned into agoraphobia. Besides the times that we went over to Derrick and Casie's house and the occasional dinner outing, I did not leave the house. I thought it was better to just avoid the panic situation altogether.

On our third day after we left Donnie and Casie's house, Derrick got up early to go to work, and I decided to sleep in. A few hours after he left, I was woken up from the blaring sound of sirens that were speeding down the highway directly in front of our house. I tried to fall back asleep thinking that they would fade away, but they kept going on and on and on. It was a solid five minutes of sirens, and they were loudly screaming in my ear. When they finally faded, I rolled back to my side and tried to go back to sleep. It was probably around 10:00 in the morning. Normally sirens don't really grab my attention as much as these did. I just thought it was strange that they had lasted for so long. About five minutes after the sirens faded, I was almost back to sleep when the phone rang. I had caller ID, and I didn't know who was calling, so I let it go to the message machine. I was sleeping upstairs, and I heard the muffled sound of the machine below me. It was a woman’s voice, but I wasn’t sure exactly who it was. It sounded like it might be important, so I picked up the phone while the person was leaving their message. “Hello?” I tried to sound more alert than I really was. “Elizabeth! It’s Casie’s mom!” She sounded frantic. I could barely make out what she was saying. “I’m on the way to the hospital…he…he’s not breathing!”

“Wait, try to breathe,” I said, trying to make sense of what I was hearing. “Who isn’t breathing?” I asked, praying that I had heard her wrong. “The baby! He’s not breathing!” she screamed in terror. “WHAT? Is he okay? Where is he?” I panicked. “He’s in the ambulance on the way to the hospital right now. I’m following the ambulance. I don’t know what’s going on! When Casie called me and said he wasn’t breathing, I rushed over to her house, and the ambulance was putting him in the back!” “Oh my God. I’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes, okay?” “Okay, HURRY!”

I hung up the phone, unsure of how I was going to get to the hospital. Derrick was at work, and I knew that if he knew what was going on, he would have been driving back here like a maniac. I called one of my friends to see if she would give me a ride to the hospital. She arrived about five minutes later. I paced back and forth wondering what I was supposed to say to Derrick. Just as she was approaching my front sliding door, the phone rang again. It had been about fifteen minutes since I spoke with Casie’s mom.  I recognized the number. I hesitantly answered the call. “Hello?” “Elizabeth, it’s Casie’s sister.” The sixteen-year-old girl was sniffling. “Is the baby okay?” I begged. “My…m…mom says to tell you that baby Donnie is no longer with us.” She broke down in hysterics. “Oh my God. I’m…so sorry. I am on my way okay? Tell your mom that I will be there as soon as I can.” I hung up the phone. A part of me knew that this was coming. From the moment I was able to understand what Casie’s mom was saying, my gut was telling me that the baby was not going to be with us anymore. “

What’s wrong babe?” Crystal asked as she saw the look of despair on my face. I walked outside on the deck where she was standing, holding her keychain. “He’s dead. The baby died.” I said in an emotionless tone. She was speechless for the first few moments. Not knowing what to do, I kicked the glass sliding door as hard as I could, hoping that it
would shatter. It didn’t. I cried and Crystal gave me a hug. Derrick needed to hurry up and get home. I couldn't get a hold of him, and I thought that maybe his cell phone had died. The only other thing that I knew to do was call his boss. I told her what was going on, and she said that she was going to send him home, but she'd tell him that I wasn't feeling good and I needed a ride to the doctor. That way, he wouldn't end up driving like a maniac and end up hurting himself or someone else on the way. When he pulled into the driveway, he was in a perfectly happy mood. There was no nice way to break the news, so I just said it as calmly and straightforward as I could. "I have really, really horrible news." "What?" He looked totally confused, and probably thought that I was sick. "It's the baby."

That was all that I had to say. He knew that the baby was gone. He calmly turned around, facing the bed of his truck. I was happy that Crystal was with me because I didn't know what to expect. A few seconds later he violently punched the tailgate, slicing his knuckles open. He moved away from us trying to process the information. "I'm going to fucking kill him," he said, with a look of complete seriousness on his face. To calm him down, I went against my personal beliefs and tried to help him keep an open mind. "You need to just calm down and not jump to conclusions. It could have been anything, we don't know yet. Babies die of SIDS. And if they had nothing to do with what happened, you definitely don't want to start pointing fingers, because imagine how they would feel if it's something that they had no control over.

Crystal had to leave to pick up her son, and we decided that we should start heading towards the hospital. We didn't know if they were still there, but we didn't really know what else to do. When we pulled into the side of the hospital where the emergency room entrance was, we saw the entire family walking out of the front doors. They were all walking slowly with their heads down, and the hospital’s Reverend was with them holding a Bible. We parked and got out of the truck, hesitantly walking toward them. We didn't know how we would comfort anyone, and I had personally never encountered a situation where a family had lost a loved one. As soon as Casey saw me, she walked over to me bawling her eyes out, and I put my arms around her. I held her while she cried for probably 10 minutes. I felt the pain radiating off of her soul. It was deep and it was brutal. I had not experienced a loss quite like she had, but I knew what it felt like to permanently lose a child. There was nothing that anyone could say or do to make the painful fact change.  Donnie was in tears with his arms in the air as he approached his brother. "My kid is dead, man!" he bawled as his brother tried to comfort him. The hospital had scheduled the baby to be transported to the morgue, where his little body would wait until the coroner picked him up for an autopsy.

When it was determined that there was nothing left to do at the hospital, we all headed toward their home. It was tragic walking into the living room, seeing all of the baby’s items as if he were still alive. We all thought that we were still hearing him cry, but it was more of a desperate yearning wish. Derrick called his parents to break the news. He made sure that his mother was sitting down knowing that she was going to be absolutely devastated. The Reverend stopped by to offer more support, and it was then that I realized how beautiful and meaningful words could be. "You just have to know, in your heart, that something as innocent and beautiful as your baby, is safe in heaven with God. There is no other place that he could be except for with our Lord." The day had gone by very slowly, and it was almost as if everything were in slow motion. It began to get dark outside, and shortly thereafter, a pair of police officers arrived to carry out their standard investigation. They asked for simple items, like the can of the baby's last formula that he ate, a diaper and the wipes that were used, and they asked to be led to the place where the baby was found unresponsive. They were only in the house for a few minutes, and they were very kind and compassionate to both Donnie and Casey. Derrick and I went home that night. We were both feeling sad and upset that we hadn't acted quicker. If we would have just listened to our intuition, he just may still be alive. He would be almost six years old today.

The loss of the baby was so incredibly sad that it could never be put into words. In a way, it helped Derrick and I realize how lucky we were. We had gone through a horrible series of events, but at least we knew that we would see our baby again. Death is permanent. Donnie and Casie would have to live without ever seeing their son again. There were no second chance, tinge of hope, or ways around it. He was gone.

We wanted to pitch in to plan his funeral, but the autopsy was taking so long that we couldn't even set a date. Donnie started to become angry that the detectives that wouldn't allow him to see his son's body. Their reasoning for this was because the autopsy was so extensive that it would probably be a traumatic site. My suspicion proved to be true when the detectives were suddenly asking Donnie, Casey, and her entire family to come in for individual interviews. That is when I immediately knew that there was more to the story. The detectives even contacted Derrick and I, asking if we would go for interviews. I blatantly refused, recalling the horrible days back in 2006. I was not about to offer information that I had no knowledge of, and from my experience, that is always what they wanted. They wanted an easy answer. They wanted to just close the case. We agreed to an interview, under specific circumstances. The only way that we would speak with them was if they came to our home and they agreed to leave if we asked them to.

They respected our request and came to our house the next night. We told them all that we knew, all that we saw, and even all that we suspected. Derrick was in tears because he didn't want to believe that his brother could be responsible, but deep down inside, he knew that it was probably the truth. The detectives clearly saw how vulnerable he was. They used this as their opportunity to share some information about their findings. "Now, we understand that you are hurting. The last thing that we want to do is make it worse. However, there is some information that we feel is necessary that you know. We need you to think of anything and everything that you can remember about the days leading up to his death." We sat on the couch, giving the detective our full attention. "This baby did not die of SIDS. This was not an accidental death. We have proof, in pictures and reports, that this baby was murdered. He probably suffered for about eight hours before he died of asphyxiation. In our opinion, it is one of two people who are responsible. We do not believe that Casey is responsible." "I'm just trying to really process what you are saying right now. Can you prove this with photographs?" Derrick asked. "Yes, but I strongly advise you to not look at them. They are extremely disturbing, and it is one of those things that will most likely never leave your mind." "So exactly what kind of evidence do you guys have?" "Well, I'm not going to offer every single detail, but there were four bruises found on the back of the baby's head. They were about the size of a fingerprint. The baby had a bruise around his mouth in a circular shape, determined to be the shape of his pacifier. When you put that evidence together, it appears that his head was pushed down into his mattress until he was no longer breathing." I started to feel sick and diseased. Derrick’s face turned pale. I had a hard time figuring out when the detectives were actually telling the truth or if they were lying and trying to find some sort of evidence. But, in God's name, I couldn't find any reason why any person would fictitiously make such claims. He left and Derrick went back and forth trying to decide if he believed them or not. I could tell that he didn't believe them, but he was fighting it because he didn't want to believe them.

Because we had been supporting Donnie and Casey since the day that the baby died, it was hard to just suddenly, 100% cut them off without being obvious that we were suspicious. A few days later, Casie, Donnie, and Casie's mom and her sister showed up unannounced. I was upstairs sleeping as usual, and Derrick was down stairs watching TV. I didn't mind that they were there, but I started to become annoyed and upset at the sound of Donnie’s voice. The way that he was laughing and joking almost convinced me that he could have been responsible for what happened to my daughter. I got dressed and walked outside without saying a word to anyone. I got on my phone and I called my mom crying because I was so frustrated and disgusted. My mom called Lilah, and Lilah actually offered to pick me up for lunch. While I was waiting for her to pull up, Casie’s mom came outside to talk to me. She could see that I was upset. She didn't have extensive knowledge over what happened to my daughters because I rarely spoke of it. I was trying to give her the information and somehow I hoped that she saw the connection between what happened to her grandson and the irony of what happened to my daughter, two years earlier. She didn't understand, and I can't blame her. I was mostly vague when I tried to explain. I thought it was nice of her, though, that she at least tried to talk to me. Lilah picked me up and she was really nice to me. I was surprised that she even came in the first place. She was on a positive affirmations kick, and she gave me some ideas of things I could say to myself every day to try and get through my living hell.

When I got home later that day, everyone had left, and I explained to Donnie why I had to get away. I even explained to him my conflicting feelings over what happened to Zoe. He was understanding and compassionate. He then started to bring up things that were discussed when I was gone. Long story short, they were all blaming Marnie. I didn't know Marnie well enough to feel like I could form an opinion. It was easier for Derrick to go along with this belief, though. As the days went on, he allowed himself to completely believe this idea to be true. After all of the horrible fate, events and chaos, he allowed Donnie back into our lives on a regular basis. I was hurting for Casie, and I wanted to be there for her. It was extremely hard for me to stay neutral. Any time I thought about my daughter, a wave of fear would crash through me. The fact that I was probably in the same room as the person responsible gave me complete terror. I had to consistently make sure that I was stocked up on my anti-anxiety medication because I truly could not handle reality. I knew that Casie was struggling quietly in her own mind. I knew that she was confused and was unsure about what to think when it came to the death of her son. I had been struggling with a similar feeling for a few years at that point. Whenever we had time alone, I always brought it up to her, and I told her that I didn't know exactly how she felt, but I had a good idea. I wished that somehow her and I could just run away from these men. I found it odd that Donnie constantly wanted to stay in the home where the baby died, and Casie could not bear the thought of it. Casie frequently came over to our house to stay the night because it was just too hard for her. Donnie claimed that he did not want to leave the house because he felt like he was leaving his baby. The circumstances, and the relationships within the circumstances, were incredibly confusing and dynamic. The detectives eventually let up on interrogating Donnie and Casey, but we all knew that they were being watched. If they were being watched, that meant that Derrick and I were also being watched.