What Happened to BJ (Brian) Martin?: Brian's Story

By Jolene D. Martin

A Mother's Heartbreak and Hope: Unraveling the Mystery of BJ Martin

In What Happened to BJ Martin?: Brian's Story, Jolene D. Martin opens the pages of her heart, recounting the captivating journey of her son, Brian. From his earliest memories, Brian, or BJ as he was affectionately called, was a puzzle, often misunderstood

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Dec 17, 2024
• ISBN: 9798822934368

Jolene D. Martin

Jolene D. Martin has poured her heart into journals for over five decades, capturing life's ebb and flow. In What Happened to BJ Martin?: Brian's Story, she unveils her family's most painful chapter. Drawing from personal chronicles, she shares Brian's story, hoping to spark understanding and provide comfort to those with similar heartaches. Jolene's penning is more than a memoir; it's an outreach, a hand extended to those navigating the perils of addiction and the nuances of autism.

Book preview

One

September 5th, 1981 Saturday morning. It was a cold rainy day. I told Jimmy and Shelly that we would go shopping when it cleared up. Brother Jeff called checking on me, neighbor Linda, across the street and my friend, Doris from Cuba called. I told them I was fine, and I didn't think there would be a baby that day. I was wrong…

5:55 pm. We were on our way to Sodus Hospital. We dropped off the kids to neighbor Beverly since our best friends the Seamans were camping for the weekend. 6:15 pm we were placed into a hospital room with an adjoining bathroom. Nurse Phyllis got me settled on the bed, she gave Dan a surgical gown and cap, and pointed to the bathroom. Minutes later we heard groans from the bathroom. Dan was in a panic saying he was stuck. Actually the door was stuck. He pushed, pulled, and kicked. Nurse Phyllis ran to help. She tried all the things he tried. They laughed and made jokes. An orderly passed by, heard laughter and walked in. He joined them and he wasn't much help. My doctor came, checked on me and told me that I was doing fine. Looking at the party going on at the bathroom door, he decided a maintenance man should be called to take the hinges off. They were chattering and having a good time. I was thinking that in 20 years I would think it funny. They left a pregnant woman in labor to extradite my husband from the bathroom. I definitely was not thinking it was funny that day. I yelled Hello, do I have to deliver this baby by myself??? By 9:00 pm Brian James Martin was born, 6 lbs. 18 oz. and 18 inches long. He had bright blue eyes and soft blonde hair. He was perfect. Hours later, I was supposed to be resting, heart pounding in my chest, all I could think was the miracle he was. I was full of love and joy. I cannot describe my pride for our Iittle peanut.

At age three, Brian was enrolled in Miss Connie's Nursery School. That first day, he wore a little light blue suit with a vest, bow tie, and blue/tan saddle shoes. He looked adorable. It was a few weeks later that Miss Connie let me know there was a problem. She explained that Brian was too friendly. I thought she was kidding. She said that in his excitement he hugged the kids all day. I shook my head and thought that he shared toys, shared his snacks, and was not a bully. What more could you ask of a three-year-old? I was proud of him. I told her I would speak to him. It felt like I was punishing him for just being friendly. He got better about hugging, but through the two years he did hug, just less. When he was five years old, he got off the school bus and was so mad at someone at school, he called the boy a mud face bandaid. He was proud of himself because he thought he was swearing. That was also the time that every time he said a cuss word, I would put a bar of soap in his mouth. Weeks went by, it did not help. One of our other kids let me know that he actually loved the taste of soap. In Kindergarten at a Christmas party at school his principal asked him what he wanted Santa to bring him. He looked up at her with excitement in his eyes and he said, a big red fire f/$#@! I about died from embarrassment. I had forgotten he was having trouble saying words that started with the letter T. I grabbed him away, and hoped she understood.

First grade, age 6, he discovered a teen in Cuba, N.Y. with a Mohawk haircut. He thought it was the greatest thing ever and decided that he wanted one to start out the school year. I was concerned kids would laugh at him, but two days later there were two little boys in his class who had Mohawk haircuts and by the end of the week, five more boys had Mohawks in the school. He had set a trend. For the next five years he got the haircut during his summers. My dad loved the haircuts because it reminded him of my brother Jeff who had Mohawk haircuts when he was a little boy.

He was nine years old and loved riding his bike. It was Apple Blossom Week in town. There were parades, craft shows, street dances, races and carnival rides. The carnival was set up close to us on the main road. It was getting close to dinner time. A policeman knocked on the door. He had a smiling Brian behind him. He unloaded the bike from his trunk and came back to tell us that Brian spent the day watching the rides and the carnival people and decided that he wanted to join up with them! Apparently he was fascinated with how they set up and worked on the rides. He loved how the people made all the kids happy and wanted to be just like them. He was disappointed that none of them would take him with them but at least, he said he got to go home in an awesome police car .

Two

Brian got through early years of elementary school being outgoing, loud, excitable and easily distracted. The teachers all loved him and told me that it was hard to explain to him when he grinned at them from ear to ear. In fourth grade age 9 he was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, A.D.D. He was placed into a smaller class with extra aides. There were three other Brians' and one Ryan so they asked if they could use his initials, "B.J.'' That nickname stayed with him past his graduation from high school. He actually hated the nickname. At home,

I just called him BeeZee. One day, when he was about 9 years old, while at school, huge packages showed up from the Nickelodeon TV Studios in Florida. I called the customer service number on the package. I explained that my nine-year-old son received many packages and boxes from them that I never ordered. They put me on hold and meanwhile Brian came running through the front door. He ran to the packages and began to open boxes. I said, Hold it right there buddy. I asked him if he knew anything about the boxes. He said no. The woman got back to me on the phone and explained that Brian won the Grand Prize in a contest that was on TV. I told her that it must be a mistake, that I would send them back. She came back saying it was no mistake, she had the winning post card with his note, address and signature. I thanked her, looked over to him and he did the grin. When did you do this? He wasn't sure. There were toys, games and a whole lot of that green slime. Brian was so happy; it was like Christmas.

I googled the definition of A.D.D. It is usually attributed to younger children but can affect any age. (I can attest to this as I have it.) Kids have a difficult time in school focussing and concentrating. Their attention jumps all over the place. They have hard, difficult times maintaining personal relationships and can be challenging to educate. People with A.D.D. are intelligent. They get bored quickly and are passionate about their pursuits. They can be quite successful in the world. In another source, some of the symptoms are trouble focusing, daydreaming instead of schoolwork; unable to take their turn when it comes around; acting without thinking; misinterpreting conversations; forgetfulness; making careless mistakes; not being able to stay on task; not being able to carry out instructions or handle more than one step at a time; not being able to organize…Brian and I had all the symptoms. Brian was prescribed the dreaded Ritalin. Teachers loved it. At home it was another story. He would sit in our rocking chair very still. I don't think he even blinked. All his creativity was gone. He didn't want to go outside to play. He did not want to watch TV. He didn't want to talk. The twinkle was out of his eyes. We tried different doses, but in the end, it just broke our hearts. After several months we took him off Ritalin.

Three

Brian’s story started August of 1993. Friday, it was hot, 90 degrees. Brian was eleven years old, and his youngest sister, age nine. They asked if they could stay up to finish a movie and sleep downstairs since it was cooler. We lived in the woods, no neighbors and no lights. It was pitch dark. Our first mistake was not locking our doors. Dan and I woke to screaming downstairs. The dog was barking and growling. I thought the kids might have startled him from a sound sleep. I knew Dan would handle whatever was going on. That was our second mistake, I stayed in bed. He got to the bottom of the stairs and saw Brian standing in the corner of our living room. A man with a shotgun held Tanessa by her waist pulling her out the back french door. He screamed to Dan and Brian to stop or he would kill them. As soon as he took her out the back porch, Dan ran upstairs, to get his rifle. I was at the top of the stairs, he ran past me and yelled that someone took Tanessa and to call the police. I went to Brian and asked him what happened. Brian was in shock, in a catatonic state. I ran to the phone to call the police. We did not have 911 yet. I dialed zero. I screamed to the operator, grabbing Brian outside to our driveway. We waited for help. Brian sat on a fallen tree still not speaking. That was the first of years of nightmares and demons that would haunt him until he died.

This is Brian’s story.

Four

Therapy: We went through it. The whole household then and now have severe Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. After that night, Brian age 12, got a variety of knives and decapitated all the stuffed animals. He stabbed the carpets, walls, the furniture, anything he could get a hold of. That was when we were introduced to child therapist, Dr. P. Dr. P. anxious to help Brian, used board games to get patients to talk. He was excited to be involved in our high-profile case. He told me that he was going to write about Brian. Of course, we removed and hid all the knives, and Dr. P. said the household would be safe again. Brian did not take therapy seriously. After each session, Brian would laugh and tell how he fooled Dr. P. I asked his school counselors if they thought he needed another psychologist, but they could not say. Brian was terrified, and he was angry. He could not sleep at night; demons were always trying to kill him, always chasing him. One night we heard a bang that sounded like a pizza pan dropping to the floor. We both jumped out of bed and ran to Brian's room. He was shaking and crying saying he was sorry over and over again. He was holding Dan’s rifle. He said he thought someone was in his room trying to kill him. We were not sure how he found the gun hidden in our closet or when he hid it under his bed.

The bullet went through his wall through his sister’s closet, bounced out through one of her walls through our hallway entering our bedroom wall and hitting our wall to our closet. He could have killed any of us.

Brian’s 13th birthday, September 5th, 1994. He wanted his ear pierced. There were lots of boys who had ears pierced. We headed to the mall and also got him new clothes. He wanted pizza for dinner. I also had a notice that the school wanted me to come in to discuss Brian’s bad behavior. I wondered what they thought we could do that was not already tried.

Five

October 1994 was the month the oldest son got married. It was exciting, with all the traditions. There were tuxes to rent and a flower girl dress to be made and lots to plan. The weekend of the wedding, Dan, Brian, and Tanessa were at church for rehearsal, and I sent our two nieces out to put signs out by the mailbox. It was dark and they came back upset saying that someone was screaming in our woods. Our brother-in-law and I went out to see. It sounded like Help me! Help me! It was coming from our hill but seemed to be the other side of our swamp near the migrant camp on the next road. I called the police, shaking. It sounded like a woman or a child. I looked for our kids and remembered that they were safe at church. All I could think of was someone was getting murdered. My heart was pounding hard. The police showed up in record time. The screaming had stopped, he wondered if it was an animal. He looked around, found nothing and suspected it was a raccoon. The wedding was beautiful, absolutely perfect. The day Dan and Brian picked up the tuxes, they also bought new shoes, and Dan let Brian pick out a new bicycle as a late birthday present. Brian had been trying to piece together a bike from parts from other bikes that he had. He was gaining knowledge, but Dan was not sure that it would be safe. Brian could be watchful of his little sister, if he remembered she was with him. We went over and over with him, telling him he had to watch her when they were riding bikes together; to stay close to her and not take off without her. It usually was the other way around, where she kept an eye on him. We are grateful for the times she did.

Shock of all shocks, one Sunday, BeeZee went to church with his brothers by another mother, M and M. I tried for years to get him to go to church with me, it took two little boys to take him to their 99% black church that made it extremely exciting for him. These were brothers that stole beer from their dad as 10 and 11-year-olds and swore like drunken sailors.

Another school meeting about homework Brian had turned in. He wrote a story of a missing girl and his effort as a police officer to find her and rescue her from an evil monster. He found her but could not save her life. His friends came and stabbed the monster. It ended when he did not believe that it was really dead and was coming back for him. The school psychologist said there was a really important message in that homework. Brian had always had tremendous guilt. He was taking karate lessons. He just had learned to break a board with his foot, but stated he could not protect her because of fear. He refused to take any more lessons.

Six

The kids took piano lessons. We had a beautiful antique piano that was becoming fragile. We found a comparable keyboard for them to use until we had the old piano repaired. I was so proud that he loved playing.

December 13th, 1994, we had a lengthy visit with Dr. P. It proved interesting. He said BeeZee’s problems were mostly from the kidnapping and only a tiny bit developmental. He said that Brian’s fears and guilt that he did not protect his sister was a major problem, and it was going to be a step-by-step process to help him. He said that