From Julie’s diary dated 10/30:
I can’t take it any longer.
The noise. The yelling and the sound of breaking furniture and glass. I just can’t. How long must I put up with this? I wish…I wish…I wish for absolute silence.
Every weekend, he comes home drunk and mean. Sometimes he just sulks in front of the TV. But sometimes…he continues to drink, then he throws things. The plate that hit my little boy caused 6 stitches in his eyebrow. The bruise on my little girl was from the book he sent hurling across the room because she walked in front of the tv during the game. I have had 16 trips to the hospital for concussions, broken bones, stitches. I told him I am sending the kids to grandma’s house on the weekends so they can have a little time with her and we could have a little “time to ourselves.” So the kids aren’t bruised and broken, but he’s raised the bar on me.
We had to eat on paper plates yesterday because all the glass ones have been shattered. He was furious and yelled at me and threw the food on the floor. Then he forced me down on my knees to clean it up but not before he bashed my head into the mess. I have an egg-sized bruise on my forehead. We eat take-out so I don’t have any heavy cooking implements in the house. I keep one knife under my side of the mattress, but the rest of them are at Mom’s. She says the kids cry buckets when it’s time to come home. So do I.
Every time I think I’ve got some money saved up so we can leave, he finds it and spends it. He made a down payment on a truck we can’t afford. He bought a 72” screen TV, then he put a chair through it when his team was behind. He skipped paying the electric bill and took all the money he found and went to the casino instead of going to work. He told his boss I was in a mental institution and he had to come visit me! He had the gall to yell at me when the power was turned off! And when he isn’t sulking, he’s yelling. All the time! He won’t let me go running, or take a walk, or go out with what used to be my friends. He said they were no good! He said they were trying to turn me against him and he threatened to beat them up if they ever contacted me again. He used to go bowling with his friends on the police force until the owner threw him out for launching a bowling ball at the team in the next lane. The police should have seen the red flags, but they said, “Naw, Sarge had been drinking so it wasn’t his fault.” He won’t allow me to go to the hospital closest to our house because some of his friends might start asking questions. Uh oh, he’s home. I have to hide this.
Found on a notepad under the pillow on the hospital bed.
10/31
He found my diary.
He said nothing for a while, just stared at me with pure hatred on his face.
Very calmly and coolly he asked if I really wished for absolute silence. Then he boxed my ears. The doctor says he broke both my ear drums.
He’s coming in to pick me up before I can get discharged…before the police can ask any questions.
He brought my diary and ripped out a page: He wrote, “Now you won’t hear me when I come to kill you.” Then he tore it up and put it in his pocket. He was laughing as he left the room.
I hope you find this message.
Measureable progress 