Exposed: Battered Women Shelters

By Louge'

Louges book, Exposed: Battered Women Shelters, is a tell-all book of what really happens to the women and children inside these places, revealing nasty secrets: The kidnapped boy the shelter didnt report to the police; the measles epidemic that went on for over a year without being reported; counselors taking children away from their mothers; aiding and abetting illegal aliens; children living with registered child molesters; discrimination against fathers, illegally taking their children away from them; racist counselors; women and children living amongst cockroaches and mice; fraudulently received government monies; Christian shelter abusing a pregnant woman; lesbians; children sexually abused; drugs; liquor; and much more.

The Director of the Deschutes County Victims Assistance Agency severed ties with a battered women shelter, refusing to send women to the shelter, stated (paraphrase):
Its actions were not consistent with protecting victims.

Deschutes County Deputy District Attorney Patrick Flaherty stated (paraphrase):
it (battered women shelter) has an irrational anti-law enforcement attitude
does not cooperate with investigations
allows women suspected of being abusers into the shelter.

Steven M. Basile, head of a Fatherhood Coalition chapter stated (paraphrase):
Men have been unable to see their children because of false claims of abuse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 17, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450247511

Louge'

American born author Louge is representative of three generations of writers. In addition she is a jack of all trades, having been a big rig truck driver to a secretary at the stock market to the manager of a convenience grocery store, etc. She enjoys swimming, oil painting, and the outdoors in general. Marin county, California is her home. Intelligent and creative she's been diagnosed with periodic depression, grouping her with noteworthy persons as Mark Roget, creator of Roget's Thesaurus; William Faulkner, winner of Nobel Prize in Literature; J.K. Rowling, author of the Harry Potter novels; Mike Wallace, newscaster; Vaslov Nijinsky, ballet dancer; Terry Bradshaw, football player; etc. For comments or questions, she can be contacted at: [e-mail].

Book preview

Table of Contents

Introduction

Poem

PART ONE

Chapter 1: Children & Violence

A Typical Day For The Children

Establishing the Boys Hierarchy

The Teenage Bullies

The Children’s Private Domain Of Violence

Chapter 2: Children & Sexual Abuse

The Lonely Prostitute & Her 5 Year Old Son

The French Kiss & The Painful Erection

A Family Affair - Mother, Son, & Invalid Daughter

The Prostitute In The Rain

The Making Of A Child Prostitute

Chapter 3: Children & Suicide

Bobby & The Knife

The 6 Year Old Suicidal Runaway

PART TWO

Chapter 4: Taking the Children Away 'A Mothers Nightmare'

The Night Fear Gripped The Shelter

Put That Child In A Psychiatric Hospital

You’ll Never See Your Mother Again

You’re Married to a Rock Star?! We’re Jealous!

PART THREE

Chapter 5: $ Criminals & Felons $

The Registered Child Molester

I’ll Stab You When You’re Sleeping

Attempted Murder In The Kitchen

The Pitcher of Cooking Oil

PART FOUR

Chapter 6: Illegal Aliens

Hiding Out In America

PART FIVE

Chapter 7: Counselor Abuse/Neglect ‘Anger & Fear or Shit, Piss, & Farts’

The Shitty Message & The Shitty Kick Out

The Power Play That Backfired

The Pregnant Woman & The Locked Door

Intimidation & Urination

Farting As Revenge

Farting As A Survival Skill

Chapter 8: More Counselor Abuse/Neglect

The ‘rape’ Rap Song

The Heartbreaking Accusation & Threat

Sleep Out In The Rain

The Woman Without A Bra

The Measles Epidemic

Mother & Toddler Wandering Aimlessly In The Snow

Shut Up! The Counselor Hollered

The Sour Milk

The Kidnapped Boy

The Motherless Children

Endangering The Shelter

Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner?

The Vengeful Counselor & The Husband

The Lesbians & The Children

PART SIX

Chapter 9: Mice & Cockroaches

Not Wanting To Encounter The Small Rodent On The Floor, I …

Cockroaches, Cockroaches, Everywhere Cockroaches

Don’t Tell Us We Have Cockroaches!

PART SEVEN

Chapter 10: Liquor & Drugs

Liquor & The Lovers

Liquor & Searching for ‘The Man’

Drugs & The Ghost

Drugs & The Lost Teenage Years

Drugs & The Cleaning Lady

Liquor & Drugs & Self-Medicating

PART EIGHT

Chapter 11: The 72 Hour ‘hold’

The Murdered Mother

The Broken Arm

PART NINE

Chapter 12: Racism & Prejudice

Get In The Dumpster

Kicked Out At The Break Of Dawn

The Ultimate Betrayal

The Red Haired Boy & The Black Counselors

The Mexican Mother & Her Blistered Feet

PART TEN

Chapter 13: The Crisis Call

$ The First Intake $

23 Crisis Calls to 23 Shelters in 9 Hours

Wait Till He Gets To You With His Gun

Lying For Money

$ The First Intake - More Money Incidents $

No Debts Please

The ‘Sure’ Thing

The First Intake - Varied Incidents

I Don’t Know What To Do

I Had To Finish My Shopping

I Don’t Want To Get Involved

Maybe We’ll Take You & Maybe We Won’t

Sexual Abuse Is No Laughing Matter

The Lesbian ‘Hook-Up’

The Bullies

The Second Intake

The Rape

The Imprisonment

PART ELEVEN

Chapter 14: Homeless, Lonely, & Traveling Women

Homeless Woman & The Phone Sex Job

Homeless Woman & The ‘System’ She Loved

Homeless Woman & Her 'bossy' Mother

Lonely Woman & The Desertion

Lonely Woman & The Empty House

Traveling Woman & The Famous Amusement Park

Traveling Woman & The Cost Free Shelters

PART TWELVE

Chapter 15: ‘battered women’ As Battered Women Counselors

PART THIRTEEN

Chapter 16: Christian Shelters & Exploitation

The Church’s Work Horse

The Baptism Or ‘The Show Must Go On’

Give Me Your Baby Or Feel The Wrath

The Beautiful Woman or ‘Miss Piggy’

Cleaning The Sanctuary Windows By Moonlight

The Old Woman Sitting On The Church Steps In The Rain

PART FOURTEEN

Chapter 17: Discrimination & Men

You Called The Police? Get Out!

PART FIFTEEN

Chapter 18: Two Shelter Experiences – Beginning to End

Intent To Deceive

Enemy Counselor

About The Author

Introduction

SKU-000189478_TEXT-17.jpg

My mother was a battered woman.

On a summer evening she sat in an overstuffed chair in the living room, crying from the terrible abuse she’d received. I was five years old. I sat in her lap crying, my heart breaking along with hers. I wiped away the tears running down her cheeks. I ran my fingers gently through her hair. I told her everything would be alright. She held me close to her, her arms wrapped around me. In that moment, touching one another, sharing one another’s heartache, tears, and grief, we became as one. In that moment the seed for this book was planted. The seed of compassion for abused women and children.

My childhood home was one of domestic violence, making me a victim of domestic violence. Daily there were incidents involving guns, knives, fists, etc. The violence left me scarred for life.

As a child I had anxiety attacks throughout each day. As a teenager I slept a restless 2-3 hours a night. As an adult I moved from place to place, forever running from the haunting memories I kept inside of me but from which I could never escape.

Many years later I became homeless. I discovered battered women shelters during that period, preferring them to homeless shelters because one’s basic needs were better met there than in a homeless shelter.

Once inside I was alarmed at the treatment battered women and children received. At that time the seed in me took root and began to grow. The thought of writing an expose crossed my mind. However, once I was in my own home again and detached from the arena of ‘battered women’ the desire to write such a book faded, though the idea remained.

When I entered middle age I looked back to my childhood, trying to find reasoning with what took place. As I began the journey into my past I became involved with a man. He was charming witty humorous, and I later discovered … a murderer.

He was a skilled and seasoned player at the game of ‘battering’ and managed to keep me in the game until I found myself standing in my mother’s shoes. It was then that I began to gain understanding of my parent’s volatile marriage and my troubled childhood.

The relationship ended when I sought refuge in a battered women’s shelter. During my stay I was reminded of the abusive treatment the women and children were subjected to. The alarm I had once felt became renewed. The desire to write about it became renewed.

After leaving the shelter I approached a publisher about writing a ‘tell all’ book of the shelters. He liked the idea and signed with me. With a contract under my belt I began researching the shelters.

I spent the next two years going into shelters throughout the United States, representing myself as a battered woman. Often I returned home to recuperate from the stress and chaos in the shelters.

What you are about to read is true. To protect the shelters, staff, and women, the locations are not listed and real names are not used. The paraphrases are taken from quotes found in The Associated Press.

The shelters came into being to provide ‘safe’ refuge for battered women. As time went by they got away from that, becoming ‘unsafe’ places. My intention in writing this book is to bring light to that fact. And in doing so, perhaps put the wheels in motion that will bring them back to what they once were. What they are meant to be.

If our lives have become shallow,

Deepen them.

If our ideals have become tarnished,

Restore them.

If our values have become confused,

Clarify them.

If our purposes have become blurred,

Sharpen them.

If our principles have become shabby,

Repair them.

If our horizons have become contracted,

Widen them.

If our hearts have become chilled by

Indifference, fear, and disappointment,

Warm them with mercy and faith and love

For ourselves and for each other.

Unknown

PART ONE

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1

CHILDREN

&

VIOLENCE

Shelter rule: ‘No physical, mental, or verbal abuse is allowed by anyone in the shelter. Anyone who creates an atmosphere of fear must leave the shelter.’

Nonviolence is a rule of the shelter. It is a rule of the shelter because violence in the shelters is a big problem. And it is a big problem because the counselors don’t enforce the ‘no violence’ rule.

Children are not safe in the shelters. I cannot stress that point enough. Violence is committed against them everyday. What does that mean? What is violence? The following is the definition according to the dictionary.

Violence:

1) Physical force exerted so as to cause damage, abuse, or injury.

2) Intense or furious often destructive action.

3) Vehemence of feeling or expression. fervor.

4) Powerful intense emotion.

That’s what babies, little children, and teenagers are dealing with in the shelters everyday. Thus, the ‘incidents’.

A Typical Day For The Children

One Sunday afternoon I sat at the kitchen table and observed the children. I took notes.

Four children were present. The oldest was Roxanne, 14 years old, with her younger sister Winnie, 6 years old. Then Marina, 7 years old, along with her little brother Anthony, 6 years old.

Roxanne was not only older than the others but plenty bigger too. Her body was firm and solid with broad shoulders and muscular arms and legs. It was a masculine build for a female. Her physical appearance added to her hostile aggressiveness brought to mind the image of a restless young bull.

Roxanne had seen a lot of violence in her life. Often she acted out explosive dramas she had witnessed.

As I sat watching I first saw Anthony being held down on the couch by his sister Marina, per Roxanne’s orders. Roxanne herself stood in the middle of the living room with her little sister Winnie standing behind her, restraining her by holding her arms behind her back, also per Roxanne’s orders. Roxanne struggled, pretending to try and break free of Winnies hold.

‘Hold me back!’ she ordered Winnie. ‘Hold me back or I’ll beat him!’

Little 6 year old Anthony struggled on the couch, trying to get away from his older sister and hit Roxanne first.

Winnie lost hold of Roxanne’s arms. At that Roxanne charged at Anthony. She waved her fist in his face threatening to hit him as she made accusations against him.

You cheated bitch! she screamed at Anthony. I’m going to beat your ass!

Without warning she abruptly changed her tactics, putting a spin on the drama.

Hit Anthony, she demanded of Marina.

Marina hesitated. Anthony was her own brother.

Beat him. He pee’d his pants. Beat him!

Roxanne’s voice was strong, commanding. Marina doubled up her fist and hit her little brother hard in the chest. Anthony winced with pain and grabbed his chest. A moment later he jumped up from the couch. He stood with his fist doubled up and pulled back, ready to strike, as he took a firm stand bracing himself against the next assault. Roxanne pushed her little sister Winnie in Anthony’s direction.

Hit him, she ordered Winnie.

I’m going to hit her, Anthony threatened back, setting his jaw and making what he hoped was a mean intimidating look.

Roxanne shoved Winnie into him, making them both fall on the couch.

Get him Winnie! she yelled.

Winnie and Anthony fought. They hit one another, shouted foul cuss words at each other, and pulled each others hair. Roxanne loved the fighting.

Go girl! She yelled at her little sister.

Encouraged by her sisters spirited cheering Winnie grabbed hold of Anthony’s shirt and pulled hard on it, ripping it wide open. Anthony broke loose of her grip and ran from the room, his face red with emotion.

Less than an hour later another ‘incident’ took place. The children were sitting on the floor in the living room playing a card game. Anthony couldn’t read one of the words on a card.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Winnie called him over and over.

Anthony ignored her and continued looking at the card, trying to figure it out, until …

I’m not stupid! Anthony shouted back at Winnie. He stood up, You’re the one that’s stupid!

Immediately Roxanne got in his face

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she yelled.

No I’m not. You are!

Shut up! Winnie yelled at him.

Overwhelmed, little Anthony turned and ran out of the room, this time in tears.

Later on the kids were talking about the Jerry Springer show. It was 14 year old Roxanne’s favorite t.v. program. She orchestrated the children into playing out something she’d seen on the show.

She pitted Anthony against his sister this time, making him yank her around by her arm and rip her shirt open. Marina started crying. Roxanne pushed further by ordering Anthony to call his sister a whore and a home wrecker.

Anthony followed Roxanne’s orders adding a hard punch to his sister’s arm in an effort to further please Roxanne. Marina cried harder at that, then she got mad. She hit Anthony in the face. Anthony ran out of the room again, crying.

Sometime later the children played a game I refer to as ‘courtroom’. Roxanne was the judge. She sentenced Marina to life in prison for being a home wrecker. She grabbed hold of Marina’s arm and yanked her across the carpet to a small closet in a corner of the room. She threw Marina in and slammed the door shut, leaving her in there in the dark. Anthony laughed nervously. That made Roxanne mad. She chased after him, her fist doubled up, prepared to hit him.

Who you laughing at boy?! Come here! I’m gonna f... your ass up!

Scared to death 6 year old Anthony ran like h... away from the big Roxanne, straight into his bedroom. There he slammed the door behind him.

Anthony thought he was safe in his own bedroom, surrounded by his little sister and his baby sister in her crib. But a shut door won’t stop an aggressive abuser like Roxanne. She pushed the door open and charged in, going past his little sister and baby sister. She made a bee line for 6 year old Anthony cowering at the far end of the room. Once she got him she lifted him up and slammed him down on the bed. Repeatedly she hit him as he cried out.

Frightened, his baby sister held the crib railing tightly and shook it back and forth as hard as she could while she cried out loud. The little sister stood near the crib, holding onto it, with an anxious look on her face and her hand shoved into her mouth, silencing herself.

While all this was going on the counselor was doing her laundry, washing loads of dirty clothes she’d brought from home.

Such is a typical day for children in the shelter.

Establishing the Boys Hierarchy

When a new boy comes into a shelter many times he is challenged to fight by the other boys. It is an unspoken law that he accepts each challenge and fights each boy in turn, thus establishing the pecking order or hierarchy among the boys in the shelter.

The new boys bravery or fear, wins or loses, and to whom he wins or loses will be critiqued and judged. He will go up or down on the hierarchy ladder accordingly. He could end up as the highly respected ‘top dog’ over all the other boys or as the lowly ‘punk/bitch’.

The following ‘incident’ took place over the span of an afternoon.

Patrick, 10 years old, wasn’t in the shelter but an hour or so when he was seen fighting with a boy out in the backyard near the swing set. It was his first fight and he won it. The boys lined up to challenge him.

A while later Patrick fought a second boy in the living room, wrestling him down to the carpet. Seated around the room were all the mothers. They watched with a keen interest, judging his fighting skills. The two boys strained and grunted, each trying to overcome the other. The boy lost. Patrick won. He was moving up through the ranks.

Soon after, Patrick was challenged again. But this time the fight was different. This time a boy of high ranking stepped up to fight him.

The fight took place on the side of the house. A place that allowed for a degree of privacy and thus respect to the high ranking boy.

The fight was to do or die. The determining fight. It was intense and went on longer than the other two with the high ranking boy being more skillful and adept at fighting than the others. The boy’s faces were red with emotion. They made guttural sounds and snarled their teeth, the grass torn up underneath them as they struggled and strained to overcome one another. In the end the high ranking boy lost to Patrick.

Patrick, victorious over all three boys, established himself as the ‘top dog’. From that moment on he was treated with respect not only from the other boys but from their mothers as well.

While the fighting went on the counselor sat on a bar stool at a counter built in the hallway, just outside the living room. She thumbed through a fashion magazine, looking at the pictures and reading articles.

The Teenage Bullies

Mark was 11 years old. He was an only child, having no brothers or sisters, no aunts or uncles or cousins. He didn’t know who his father was. His world consisted solely of him and his mother. Unsure of the world around him, he didn’t mix with other people much. He didn’t have any friends.

In the shelter were three teenage boys. Each was street smart. Each was muscular. And each was into sports. The three bonded together like blood brothers.

All the kids got out of school and back to the shelter around 3:30 p.m. in the afternoon. They climbed over the back fence from the alley and came into the shelter through the backyard.

One afternoon I went out to the backyard to wait for the kids. As I walked through the back door I saw Mark pinned up against the fence by the three teenage boys. One of the teenagers shook his fist in Marks face. Mark put his hand up in front of his face, protecting himself. I shouted at them, telling them to leave Mark alone. One turned and looked at me. He flipped me the finger, giving a good strong emphasis to the gesture.

I ran to get Marks mother. She was in her room. I knocked. When she answered the door I told her what was happening. But she was afraid of the teenage boys, too afraid to help her son. She shut the door in my face and stayed in her room, hiding from them.

Not losing any time I ran to the office. A counselor was sitting at the desk playing a game on the computer. Her eyes staring at the screen, her fingers poised over the keyboard.

Come quick! I said. There’s going to be a fight. The teenage boys have Mark up against the fence.

Okay, she mumbled while continuing to stare at the computer screen.

I turned and ran back outside. As I came out the door I saw the teenage boy who had been shaking his fist in Marks face punch him hard in his shoulder. I went over fast, feeling compelled to intervene even though I didn’t know how I was going to handle the situation.

What’s going on? I asked, trying to sound light and easy. No one answered me. I asked again.

Why are you guys fighting?

The dude lies, man, one of the teenagers answered.

He was lying to you? I repeated back to him, wanting to clarify the problem.

Instead of answering me the teenage boy hit him in his shoulder in front of me. It was a show of power to let me know he was running things, not me. I felt powerless but since there was no one else helping I kept trying.

I moved close to Mark, getting partly in between him and the teenagers, hoping they didn’t hit me too. I put my arm around his shoulder.

Mark, did you lie to them?

Mark looked me in the eyes, pathetic like.

No, he answered.

I could tell from his facial expression and the tone of his voice that he wasn’t telling the truth. He had lied to them. I attempted to defuse the situation.

Look. If you lied to them, don’t do it again. Okay?

Mark agreed. I turned to the teenage boys.

If you feel he lied to you, well, he agreed not to do it anymore so let it go. It’s not worth getting in a fight over.

I tried to redirect their attention before they said anything back to me, arguing.

Do your mothers know your home yet?

Their body language and facial expressions changed from angry and intimidating to something slightly less. I found that encouraging. They answered that their mothers didn’t know.

You ought to go and let them know your home now, I said.

I looked at Mark. With my arm still around his shoulders I escorted him away from the teenage bullies.

Come on, Mark. I want you to come inside with me.

We moved away from the fence and into the shelter. I walked him to his room and left him there with his mother.

With Mark safely in his room I went and checked on the counselor to see what had become of her. She was still sitting with her eyes glued to the computer screen, playing the game. She never intended to help.

The Children’s Private Domain Of Violence

The shelter was very large, overflowing with children and teenagers. I'd been there a few days when I noticed that many of the children seemed to up and disappear at times. I wondered where they all went.

Late one afternoon I was sitting at a table in the backyard sipping ice tea when several children ran past me. They ran to the end of the play area and around the corner of the building, disappearing. When they didn’t soon re-appear I got curious. Nevertheless I remained seated.

I was still sitting and sipping my ice tea when a little 4 year old boy came out the back door, ran to the end of the play area, went around the corner, and disappeared. The night before he’d gotten a black eye. His older sister took care of him while his mother went out. She was 15 years old, loud and hostile. She fought with everyone. Adults, other teenager’s, and the little kids. While he was in her care he got the black eye. She claimed he accidentally walked into a wall in the dark when he got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I didn’t believe her. When I saw him disappear behind the building I decided to investigate.

I got up, and leaving my ice tea behind, followed the path the children had taken. As I rounded the corner of the building I realized that the adults never went back there, that I was in fact, entering the children’s private domain.

Far behind the building I heard shouting. I saw four or five kids circled around two others fighting. I got closer. It was the older sister and a younger boy. She grabbed hold of the boys jacket, flung him around with it, and then him let go. He flew up against the wooden fence and down onto the concrete pavement. He was hurt.

I knew then I was right. She was responsible for her little brother’s black eye. I wondered how many children in the shelter she had brutalized. Children who were too afraid of her to say anything about it. I wondered why the counselors weren’t keeping a close eye on her. Why they didn’t ask questions about her little brothers black eye. Why? Why? Why?

2

CHILDREN

&

SEXUAL ABUSE

Shelter rule: ‘We are required to report to D.S.S. (Department of Social Services) if there is any suspected abuse or neglect of children.’

The shelters are not only given the authority by the State to intervene in cases of child abuse but are required by the State to do so. Ironically that authority is often misused or not utilized at all. Thus, the ‘incidents’.

The Lonely Prostitute & Her 5 Year Old Son

Sapphire had a long history of being promiscuous. She