Not Dead Yet (2 page)
“You are married to Donald Catalino?” the judge asked.
“Y-yes, yes sir.”
“It’s all right, Mrs. Catalino, I just need you to confirm the allegations in your petition.”
Rose nodded.
“You say here,” he tapped the forms with his index finger, “that your husband struck you with his open hand and with his fist, knocked you to the floor and kicked you. Is that correct?”
“Yes.” Rose scuffed her foot back and forth on the floor, biting her lower lip.
“When did these events happen?”
“The last time was the night before last,” Rose answered.
“Where did he strike you and kick you?”
Rose looked confused. “In the living room and in the kitchen.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the judge clarified, “I meant, where on your body. I am looking at you, and I do not see any bruises or other signs of injury.”
“He hits me where it doesn’t show. He hit me in the head, and he punched me in the chest and in the stomach. Then after he knocked me down, he kicked me in the ribs. I can show you if you need to see,” Rose said, looking at the floor in embarrassment.
“No need, ma’am. You don’t have to do that. Your testimony will suffice. I am granting your request for the temporary order of protection. You might want to bring a couple photographs for the hearing on the full order of protection, in case he denies the abuse.”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Rose muttered.
“You will have to testify at the hearing for the full order, ma’am. Everyone does. Your lawyer will explain to process to you,” the judge said, scrawling his signature on two of the pages and handing them to the adult abuse clerk. “The temporary order will not be in effect until he is served with it. Even then, it is just a piece of paper. It doesn’t stop bullets. Keep yourself safe, ma’am,” he said as he stood.
“All rise!” the bailiff yelled as the judge swirled up and out of the courtroom behind the bench.
Theia thanked the adult abuse clerk, who left the courtroom without a word. Handing Rose her copy of the order of protection, Theia explained how the next hearing would go, requesting the full order of protection.
“The judge was right, Rose,” Theia cautioned. “Keep yourself safe. Try not to be alone at any time. Do not be out late at night. It would be a good idea to stay with a friend or relative until the next hearing. Is there someone you can call?”
“I could call my sister Colleen, I guess, but I probably won’t be able to reach her. She doesn’t sit still much. Our mom always said Colleen would ride a rail to go somewhere.”
“Try to reach her,” Theia urged. “If you can’t reach her, call one of the shelters. Their numbers are on the sheet the clerk attached to your order of protection. Just don’t go home and don’t be alone. And don’t hesitate to call the police.”
Rose chewed on her lip and made it bleed.
“I’m glad you were here with me for this. It’s gonna be real hard, Theia, to face him at the next hearing. I know I have to do it, but it’s gonna be hard.”
“I will be right here with you. You are stronger than you realize. You find out just how strong your survival instinct is when you need it the most.”
COMPLAINT NUMBER 07-077350
DEKALB COUNTY POLICE DEPARTMENT
SUPPLEMENTAL REPORT, 05/18/2007
PAGE FOUR
"Officer Mueller, Narrative Report
… A struggle ensued between the suspect and Ms. Pearson, during which she was thrown to the ground and the suspect again pulled the gun from his pocket and pointed it at her. He forced her to kneel and he placed the gun in her mouth. As he did so, the suspect said, “Counselor, you are arguing for your life here. Tell me why I should let you live.”
“Obsession Drove Doctor To His Death: An Action Call For Change,” Psychology magazine, October 2007
"The career of a brilliant surgeon was prematurely extinguished, along with his life, by his obsession with his former wife. Dr. F., a prominent Atlanta surgeon, is believed to have suffered from schizophrenia. His obsession led him to stalk and shoot Ms. P., his former wife. Dr. F. was shot and killed by the police. Ms. P. survived.
In the medical community, there has been a long-standing rule that if a doctor is diagnosed with certain mental illnesses, he is to be stripped of his medical license and banned from practicing for the rest of his life. If Dr. F. had been able to get the help he needed, without fear of losing his livelihood, we might still have a valued member of our medical community, and Ms. P. might not have had to experience this ordeal. In light of the great advances that have been made in psychiatric medicine, it is time to re-examine this rule, and offer members of the medical community the support they need."
August 2012
“I feel so stupid,” Rose muttered as she and Theia walked out of the courthouse. It seemed as though everyone was staring at her and judging her. “Stupid and ashamed.”
“You have no reason to be ashamed, and you are certainly not stupid,” Theia countered.
“I have been that man’s punching bag for seventeen years. That makes me ashamed,” Rose replied. “And I married a man who abused me. That makes me feel like an idiot.”
“You didn’t know, Rose,” Theia said softly. “Didn’t you tell me the abuse started after you married him?”
“Well, yeah. You don’t think I’d marry someone who had already beat up on me, do you? But I do feel stupid that I did not know what kind of guy he was until it was too late. Sure, he had a bit of a temper, but I never thought he would hit me. And he would blow a gasket if any guy looked my way, but I kind of liked it that he wanted me for himself. It made me feel like I was something. Now I just feel like an idiot.”
“Everyone makes mistakes. Don’t beat yourself up. He’s done that for you.”
Rose turned and gave Theia a quick, awkward hug. “Thank you, Theia. For once I feel like things are going to be okay.” Drawing back, Rose asked, “Did you know your ex-husband was, well, not right, when you married him?”
“No,” Theia said. “I had no idea. I was barely out of high school when we met. He was much older than me, already a doctor. He was so charming and attentive. I thought he was wonderful. He would pick me up at the college dorms in his red Corvette, take me to amazing restaurants and treat me like I was a princess. I felt like I was in a movie.”
“So when did you find out something was wrong?” Rose asked. “If,” she faltered, “you don’t mind my asking.”
“It’s okay. I found out right after we got married. We were driving back from the honeymoon and had a flat tire. He got angry and took a tire iron to the car while jumping up and down, screaming and cursing. Looking back, I now realize that I should have been suspicious before the wedding, when I overheard him talking to his mother. They thought I was taking a nap.”
June 2000
“Son, I’m telling you to be careful,” the older woman admonished Foster. She had been a schoolteacher for forty years, and it showed. “You have gone off the deep end, and you need to be careful.”
“I have everything under control, Mama,” Foster insisted, always a little intimidated when his mother spoke to him in “the voice.” Being from the south, even though he was an adult, he addressed his mother as “Mama.”
“I mean it, son. She is young, so young and trusting. It’s not fair to her, all your wining and dining. She doesn’t stand a chance. Really she’s just a kid. The first man who showers her with attention is going to be her hero.”
“And I intend to be that man,” Foster replied evenly.
“It’s not right,” his mother shook her head.
August 2012
“I guess lots of people make mistakes about love,” Rose shrugged. “Thanks for telling me what happened to you. It makes me realize I am not the only idiot. Oops! I didn’t mean it that way,” she blushed.
“It’s okay,” Theia said. “Hey, I’m glad I could help, even if it is by being a bad example. But what matters now is your safety. Are you going to call your sister?”
“Probably.”
“Rose, you have to take this seriously. It will more than likely get worse before it gets better. I hate to nag, but you really should stay with someone until he gets served with the order of protection and the police remove him from the house. And then, be even more careful, because he will be angry. Don’t ever be alone or in a place where he can corner you, and always keep an eye out for him.”
“How long will it be like this?”
“In most cases, the abuser will eventually let go and get on with his or her life,” Theia said. “The amount of time varies.”
“But what if he doesn’t let go?” Rose’s lips trembled, her voice wavered.
Theia drew an unsteady breath. There were some things she could not fix. “Then you do the best you can.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Catalino versus Catalino,” the bailiff bellowed, then
walked across the room to turn off the loud, rattling window air conditioning units so people could hear what was said. The discomfort added to the already tense atmosphere in the courtroom.
“Here for the Petitioner, Rose Catalino,” Theia said as she hurried to her feet in the hot courtroom. She gave a tug to the bottom of her jacket then fidgeted with a curl that had slipped from her French twist, and was sticking to her damp neck. Little streams of sweat trickled down her back and sides.
The hearing on the full order of protection was in front of a different judge than they had been in front of several days before. Theia was relieved by this, as she had more experience with this judge.
St. Louis was a miserable place to be in August. The temperature was in the nineties during the day with ninety percent humidity, and it seldom got below eighty degrees at night. At ten o’clock in the morning, people were already fanning themselves.
“Is the other party, Donald Catalino, here?” Judge Hamilton asked, rifling through the case file his clerk handed to him. His face was shiny with sweat, as he was wearing his judicial robe on top of his business clothes.
“Yeah, I’m here,” said a tall, rangy man sitting in the back of the room. He crossed his arms defiantly, and made no move to stand.
The bailiff sat up straighter, aware there could be a problem. The morning had been relatively quiet, but in family court things could quickly escalate into violence. The bailiff leaned forward at his desk, giving the man his full attention. The bailiff’s pressed tan uniform was drooping in places from the heat, but his crew cut stood at full attention.
“You need to come forward, Mr. Catalino,” directed Judge Hamilton.
“Sir, remove your hat and show proper respect for the court,” instructed the bailiff. Donald grinned at him, slowly tucked the bill of his frayed baseball cap into a back pocket of his jeans, and walked toward the front of the courtroom, in no hurry. Seeing his steel-toed work boots, Theia wondered if he had worn them while kicking her client.
Theia and her client, Rose Catalino, stood at one of the counsel tables near the front of the courtroom. Her husband outweighed her by a good sixty pounds. Rose looked off to the right, away from Donald. Theia stood between them, as a physical and psychological barrier.
“It will be all right,” Theia whispered. “We’ll get you through this. It will only take a few minutes.” She grasped the documents filed with the court, ready to answer any questions the judge might have.
“Ma’am, you state in your petition for an order of protection that your husband hit you in the head with his fist, shoved you to the floor, kicked you in the stomach several times, then took off his belt and beat you with it,” Judge Hamilton began, looking at Rose.
Rose’s eyes filled with tears and she trembled. Her husband cleared his throat and Rose looked over at him. He stood by himself at the other counsel table. He squinted his eyes at Rose and his lips formed into a thin line.
Theia turned to her client and looked into her eyes, giving a slight nod. Rose blinked repeatedly and looked down. She coughed and swallowed. Theia poured water into a cup from the carafe on the counsel table, but Rose simply shook her head, unable to drink. The judge’s clerk fanned herself with a blank memo form. The bailiff’s chair scraped against the wooden floor of his platform as he shifted his weight. Theia stood at attention, despite the heat.
“You can do this,” Theia whispered to Rose. “Tell the judge what happened.” They had gone over Rose’s testimony the day before in Theia’s office, to prepare for this hearing.
“Ma’am, is it your testimony here today, that he did these things to you?” the judge asked gently, waving the papers in the air.
“Umm, well, you see...” Rose drew a shaky breath. She glanced over again at Donald. He stared her down, his face a picture of anger. “I don’t know,” Rose continued, her neck turned bright red. “I mean, no. No, it didn’t happen exactly like that. I knew he’d been drinking and I should have stayed out of his way.”