Chapter 32: Gwen - Hunter or Hunted

New Year’s Eve fell on a Sunday, leaving Monday New Year’s Day. Maple & Thyme didn’t open until Tuesday, so my day had stayed open.

Simone didn’t have any appointments until Tuesday either, so I woke her up that morning with breakfast in bed. She managed to smile her thanks and put on a good show for Junie, but it was only that. A show.

After we ate, we met Rhiannon in town and filled her in on the night prior. Irate, she called her lawyers. They agreed filing an Order of Protection made sense. Since the magistrates were still closed for the holiday, Simone would need to go to the city for that tomorrow.

It would only last twenty days though. Then there would be a formal hearing where a judge would decide whether it would stay in permanent effect.

Rhiannon’s lawyers said it could go either way. Because Angela hadn’t assaulted Simone, at least not recently, the order may not stick. Especially because Angela had either filed, or would soon file, for visitation rights to Junie.

It seemed unlikely she’d be awarded that since she and Junie had no established relationship. The murky area, though, was the reason Junie and Angela had no relationship. Simone had taken Junie and run in the night.

Although Rhiannon’s team had kept Simone from violating previous custody agreements, Angela had a case. She hadn’t lost contact with her granddaughter on her own accord. Simone had taken that choice from her.

As such, there was a possibility that a judge would award Angela visitation.

The chance was slim, considering Angela’s record, paired with the present stalking and harassment. But a chance all the same.

Simone didn’t like that news, but she thanked Rhiannon for her help and left. When I chased after her, telling her everything would be okay, she insisted she was fine. She planned to spend her day doing whatever Junie wanted. Swimming at the pool, or snow tubing on the ridge, or watching movies and eating junk food together. Just her and Junie, a mother-daughter day.

I got the message and gave her the space. I reminded her that if she needed anything, she could call.

She didn’t.

Rhiannon caught up with me outside the legal building and asked if I was still interested in that outreach position. When I told her I was, she invited me back inside and sat me down at her desk.

She loaded up a laptop and opened an inbox full of emails.

“These are the applications,” she said. “The same one you filled out when you got here.”

I remembered it.

Name and age

Marital status

Number of children, if applicable.

Number of pets, if applicable. Please include breed if possible.

Do you have friends or family who would be willing to house you and whoever is with you (children, pets, etc.) until you can get on your feet?

Where’s the best place to reach you? Please list any and all points of contact.

What is your highest level of education?

Have you attended any form of higher education? (college, nurse’s aide, skill schools)

What is your occupation?

How long have you been with your partner?

How old is your partner?

How did you meet?

How often did violence occur in your relationship, and what was the nature of it (smacking, punching, biting, strangling, sexual violence, etc.)? Describe in as much detail as you are able.

How many times have you left?

Why did you leave this time?

Do you still love your partner?

Is there any hope left for your relationship?

If you were given the opportunity to leave and never see your partner again, would you take it?

The day I first looked at that questionnaire, I’d scratched my head at many of the questions. What did it matter if we’d met a year ago, or five, or ten? Why did his age matter?

After meeting Evan and comparing his age to Allie’s, I understood. Those details impacted the level of trauma the relationship caused.

“We try to help all of them,” Rhiannon explained. “But help looks different for everyone. Sometimes it’s connecting them to another facility. Sometimes it’s writing them a check big enough to get out from under their partner’s thumb. And, on occasion, it’s inviting them here. Do you know what questions here give us the best idea of what kind of help they need?”

I pointed to the one I’d found most strange when I filled it out. “The last question?”

Rhiannon tilted her head. “That’s an indicator of whether the ranch is a good fit for someone’s healing, sure. But this is the most important question.”

She pointed to number 14.

How many times have you left?

“On average, it takes seven attempts before a woman leaves for good,” Rhiannon said. “Anything over five, she’s probably ready. Any under that, we refer her to another facility.”

Thinking back to all the times I’d left Troy before I left Troy, I saw the point she was making.

“Is that the primary question we look at?” I asked.

“Number 14 and number 13.” Rhiannon pointed to it. How often did violence occur in your relationship, and what was the nature of it? “Do you know what I’m looking at here?”

I shook my head.

“Immediate risk assessment. Frequency doesn’t matter to me. Once is enough. The nature of the violence matters most. If she says he ‘choked’ her, even if it was only one time, we need her out now. Strangulation starts a clock. It’s not a matter of if he’ll hurt her again. It’s a matter of how long we’ve got before he kills her.”

My throat thickened at those words. “That’s what I said on my application, right? He ‘choked’ me.”

Her warm brown eyes met mine. She frowned. “That’s why Simone got on the road a few hours later. You were high risk.”

I pressed my lips together, nodding.

She gave me a pat on the back and returned to the questionnaire. “I’ll write you a list of the big red flags. Decision-making won’t be your job anyway. Me and my psych team make those calls. You’ll read the questionnaire, make contact, and get on the road for an in-person meet. I just want you to understand the weight of what you read in these files.”

That took the weight of a truck off my shoulders. I nodded and kept listening.

She explained some more stats. Threats with a weapon were up there with strangulation. Head blows concerned her, but because of the psychological escalation. If he didn’t mind leaving her with a black eye, it meant he didn’t care about leaving marks. Not because it carried the risk of lethality the way strangulation or weapon threats did.

We were twenty minutes into the conversation when a knock sounded at the door. In walked a familiar face. Eve.

After the greetings, Rhiannon explained that Eve would walk me through the ins and outs of communication with the victims.

What did that look like?

Validate, but don’t coddle. Offer kindness, but don’t therapize.

My job wasn’t to heal her. My job was to give her a way out.

Eve put it best when she said, “I think you’ll be good at this because you’re kind, but you’re not nice. It’s not our job to fix them. They have to decide to end it. We just remind them that their wounds can’t heal when they’re still taking blows. Then we offer a sanctuary where the fists stop flying.”

I agreed. I was very far from nice.