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When home is no haven New programs in Jackson County are making strides in the fight against domestic violence. But despite that progress, the problem refuses to go away. Mail Tribune photos / Bob Pennell Michelle Husel still fears for her safety after her former boyfriend was convicted twice of assault and three times of violating a restraining order that is supposed to protect her. "I don't know when they will ever do anything to make him stop," she says. Domestic violence continues to be a problem in Jackson County, generating well over 600 calls to police every year. A persistent problem: Hundreds of arrests, broken bones and lives lived in fear By DANI DODGE Michelle Husel is a statistic. But at least she's alive. The 26-year-old's call to police was one of 658 reports of domestic violence in Jackson County in 1999. Michael Ray Knight, the man who threatened her with a rifle and told her that if he couldn't have her, no one else would, was one of 842 domestic violence cases prosecuted in 1999. His was one of 462 convictions for domestic violence that year. Since then, the 29-year-old Knight has been convicted again of assaulting Husel and three times of violating a restraining order that was supposed to keep him away from her. And last week, she saw him drive by her house again. "I have to live my life in fear because he's gotten away with so much," Husel says. "I don't know when they will ever do anything to make him stop." Many don't survive domestic abuse. Tracy Everst, 36, of Medford was strangled by her estranged husband in 1997. In 1996, Phyllis Bolding, 45, of Ashland was bludgeoned to death with a hammer by her husband. Today, Lynda Lee, 23, of Medford remains in Rogue Valley Medical Center, recovering from bullet wounds inflicted allegedly by her ex-boyfriend. Although the numbers of domestic abuse arrests and prosecutions have remained fairly constant over the past five years, the problem isn't going away. And behind every number is the ugly specter of bruises, burns and broken bones that haunts many women's lives despite growing community awareness and increasing programs to address the problem. "I really and truly think the reason that domestic violence perpetuates itself is because we all allow it to happen," says Karen Darling, coordinator of Asante Health System's domestic violence program and co-chair of the governor's council on domestic violence. "We are doing a lot better, but we are still a society that blames the victim and doesn't hold the perpetrator accountable enough." A 1999 Oregon study found that one out of 10 women between the ages of 18 and 64 had been physically abused - kicked, hit, pushed or choked - by a man in 1998. "Women really don't make it happen - they don't ignorantly stay in these relationships," Darling says. "The personality traits of an abuser are very charming. "If on the first date they were abusive, we would all turn around and run, but they work over a period of time, chipping away at the self-esteem of a person and isolating them from their support systems, and next thing you know, you are deeply involved in the relationship and being told 'If you leave I'll kill you' or 'I'll kill your dog' or 'I'll tell your boss something bad.' " In 2000, officers in Jackson County were called to 1,012 domestic disturbances, which led to 586 arrests for domestic violence. The Jackson County District Attorney's Office opened 809 files on people accused of domestic violence. Of those, 471 cases ended up with convictions. The same year, 570 restraining orders were filed. The local domestic abuse shelter, Dunn House, has been full since April, according to director Maggie Jordan. "We have people sleeping on couches," Jordan says. Yet the number of cases going from the living room to the courtrooms to probation offices and jail has increased over the past two decades, officials and women's advocates say. Both police and prosecutors have implemented programs to work more effectively with domestic violence victims and perpetrators. Since the mid-1980s, arrests are mandatory when police arrive at a scene and see evidence of a domestic violence assault. And it's not always the guys that are dragged away in handcuffs. Lt. Dewey Patton of the Jackson County Sheriff's Department says countywide, about 18 percent of domestic abuse arrests are women. But as with most of the domestic violence cases in which police are called, the situation isn't new: It's an escalation in the cycle that includes abuse and control, then sweetness, then normalcy, then abuse again. "In most cases, I'm sure the circle of violence has been going on there and finally she's had enough of him and goes after him with a baseball bat," Patton says. "She's going to be arrested even though there's a history behind that where he was more likely the perpetrator than she." Since the mid-1990s, the Jackson County District Attorney's Office has had a "no-drop policy," meaning it doesn't dismiss a domestic violence case just because the victim requests it. "Domestic violence is a community problem and a larger issue than the case in front of us," says District Attorney Mark Huddleston. "Batterers will batter again unless the problem is addressed, and the best way to accomplish that is to hold the offender accountable, and the best way to do that is to put them on a probation that includes batterer intervention." But that policy doesn't mean prosecutions are always successful. While the district attorney's office wins about 70 percent of all cases it takes to trial, it only wins about 30 to 40 percent of the domestic violence cases. That's because often the woman won't testify and the man's family members back him up. "If we just dismiss it, convincing the next person coming down the pike to plead guilty would be more difficult," Huddleston says. But domestic violence programs are often on fragile footing. In 1995, a grant funded a special domestic violence response team dedicated to prosecuting those cases. Just this week, Huddleston had to give layoff notices to two of the three people on the team because a grant expired. "The uncertainly of grant funding is a real problem with sustaining the effort," Huddleston says. And even with all the attention, the problem isn't going away - at least not for many women, including Michelle Husel. Husel met Knight through a friend in 1998. At first, their relationship was a lot of fun. They spent time riding motorcycles, and Knight seemed to like Husel's young son. Within three months, Knight had moved into her home. She didn't know about his criminal record, or that between 1988 and 1998, three different women had restraining orders against him. Husel was working at a doctor's office and Knight started accusing her of sleeping with physicians. She tried to tell him she wouldn't do that. But he called her "slut" and "whore." "He wanted to control when I went to work or lunch," she says. "If anything was out of his order, he would assume I was cheating and lying." The first time he physically abused her was during one of those irrational arguments, she says. He pushed her off the couch in anger. But he apologized profusely afterward and said it wouldn't happen again. But it was only the start. He was arrested after threatening her with a gun in October 1999, but she took him back when his family helped him convince her that she was his best hope of recovering from a mental disorder, Husel says. Then, two months later, she was seen by one of Knight's friends talking to an old boyfriend. Knight heard about it, left work and when he got home, he choked her, punched her and ran into her with a car. "My son saw it and that pushed me over the edge," Husel says. "The rest of the time my son just heard it and I made excuses like 'We were just arguing.' "All the sadness and fear turned to anger and I knew I had to get rid of him." For the last assault conviction, a felony domestic assault in November, Knight was sentenced to six months in jail. Husel got a stalking order against him before he got out of jail, and when he was released he went to Portland. After he was out of her life for six months, her anxiety attacks stopped and she was able to go back to work. Her son went from being anti-social back to being a "sweet kid." And then last week, she saw Knight again. Driving slowly down her street. Staring at her from his car. On Friday, Medford police were looking for Knight and working with the district attorney to get a warrant for his arrest, says Medford Lt. Mike Moran. "We believe stalking orders are a very important thing to enforce as aggressively as we can," Moran says. "Not only does a stalker terrorize a victim, but by flaunting stalking orders, he disregards the rules of society." In the meantime, Husel keeps staring out her window, watching and worrying. A better response: 'Re-education' changes lives of dozens of batterers By JONEL ALECCIA Nine months ago, Eric's need for power and control went far beyond who gets to hold the television remote. In January, the 31-year-old Central Point man was arrested on domestic violence charges after an escalating argument with his former wife. "What happened was, I interfered with her," he says. "I grabbed her by the arm and I told her she wasn't leaving." And he scared her, badly enough that she called police and he wound up enrolled in a mandatory six-month program for perpetrators of domestic abuse. There, the commercial driver and father of a 4-year-old son came face-to-face with the reality that his need to control her actions could have dangerous - even deadly - results. "There's guys in the room who've done things from as minor as can be to the arm grab and then it escalates to a push, then it escalates to a slap and then it escalates to the hospital," says Eric, whose last name is withheld to protect privacy. The Batterer Intervention Program run by Medford counselors Mary Ann and Terry Terrall changed Eric's life, he says. In a new relationship now, he curbs his urge for dominance in matters small and large. "I even had to catch myself from saying, 'Can I have that (TV) remote?' I wanted it," he says. "It's OK for me to be powerless. I don't need to be in control of everything anymore." Only with that kind of awareness can Jackson County hope to reduce - let alone solve - the persistent problem of domestic abuse, say counselors who've helped Eric and dozens of other violent men come to terms with the issue. "We no longer call it anger management. We call it batterer re-education. They manage their anger quite well when they want to," says Mary Ann Terrall. Batterer intervention groups that served some 300 men last year are only part of an expanded web of services focused on domestic abuse in Jackson County. In the last several years, services for victims and offenders alike have become more specialized, more integrated and more effective, experts say. And it's come not a moment too soon, says Karen Darling, domestic violence coordinator at Asante Health System in Medford. "There's been a huge change," she says. "What we have now is a coordinated community response" to a terrible problem. Credited for that change is creation of the Jackson County Council Against Domestic and Sexual Violence. Co-chair Gerry Sea says the group has pushed for strict guidelines for offender treatment, expanded awareness of victims' needs and fostered new cooperation between law enforcement and victim advocates, once adversarial agencies. "What's strong now is a new collaborative approach. We're all on the same page," Sea says. Nearly a decade ago, simply keeping women alive stretched the system to capacity. But key changes have altered that picture. * Dunn House, once the single source of shelter for abused women between Roseburg and Redding, Calif., has been joined by three others in Yreka, Calif., Grants Pass and, recently, Klamath Falls. Last year, Dunn House, which has a nightly capacity of 32 beds, sheltered between 400 and 600 people. * Since the mid-1980s, law enforcement officials called to a domestic disturbance have been required to arrest someone if they find evidence of assault or menacing. Systems since have expanded to include reports of domestic abuse as well as arrests. * Judges have mandated batterers into strict treatment programs that last "until he gets it," says Richard Lewis, a counselor with OnTrack Inc. "It's a choice to be violent," he says. "And it's a real tough thing for these guys to say, 'I chose to be violent.' They come in saying, 'If you lived with her, you'd hit her, too.' And that's some real distorted thinking." * This year, for the first time, the Oregon Legislature dedicated $2.5 million in state general funds to domestic violence services and sexual assault programs. * At the same time, public awareness of the depth of the problem of domestic abuse has grown, although not quickly enough for those who see the women in pain. "Society hasn't solved its view of violence; it's still an accepted view of living," says Wanda Powless, director of Harbor House, the new shelter in Klamath Falls. Popular culture routinely dehumanizes and sexualizes women and encourages violence by men, both tacitly and overtly, says Maggie Jordan, director of victims services for Community Works, a Medford social service agency. "We have a culture that is saturated with violence," she says. "The message is we put on a show for everybody and we don't really talk about the substance of relationships." Boys and men are still taught that might makes right and that violence is an acceptable way to cope with conflict, says Jennifer Maile of the Jackson County Community Corrections Department. "The only message I see that is not getting out there is, 'Don't beat your partner,' " she says. Advocates contend there is a huge need for more shelter space - Dunn House has been full since April - and for counseling services to help women recover. "Although services have improved across the board, the need for services to improve is exactly that - across the board," says Linda Freya, a Dunn House advocate based in the county Justice Building. Advocates also believe that reaching teenagers at risk for domestic abuse will help break the cycle earlier. And they contend that women must continue to receive the message that the violence is not their fault. "They think, 'If I just made his dinner better, if I just kept the house cleaner, if I picked up the kids on time,' it wouldn't happen," Jordan says. Change comes slowly, however, notes Mary Ann Terrall. Not all batterers are like Eric, who seemed to learn necessary lessons in a single six-month session. Some men come back again and again. "Do I think that domestic violence is going to end?" Terrall says. "Unfortunately, I really think that I have a lot of job security in this field. It's an ingrained social issue and I don't think it's going to stop." Reach reporter JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465, or e-mail [email protected] Warning signs of domestic abuse No relationship is free of conflict, but experts say women should seek help if they're living with a man who exhibits the dangerous behaviors listed below. Men who recognize themselves should seek professional intervention. In general, batterers seek power and control through the following means: Coercion * Making and/or carrying out threats of violence. * Threatening to leave her, to commit suicide, to report her to authorities. * Forcing her to drop filed charges. * Making her do illegal things. Intimidation * Using looks, actions or gestures to instill fear. * Smashing things. * Destroying her property. * Abusing pets. * Displaying weapons. Emotional abuse * Putting her down, calling her names, making her feel bad about herself. * Making her think she's crazy. * Playing mind games. * Humiliating her. * Making her feel guilty. Isolation * Controlling what she does, whom she sees, whom she talks to. * Controlling where she goes. * Limiting her outside involvement. * Using jealousy to justify actions. Minimizing, denying, blaming * Making light of abuse, not taking concerns seriously. * Saying the abuse didn't happen. * Saying she caused abusive behavior. Using children * Using children to relay messages. * Using visitation to harass her. * Threatening to take the children away. Using "male privilege" * Treating her like a servant. * Making all significant decisions. * Acting like "master of the castle." * Being the one to define men's and women's roles. Economic abuse * Preventing her from getting or keeping a job. * Making her ask for money. * Giving her an allowance. * Taking her money. * Not letting her know about or have access to family income. To get help * If in immediate danger, call 911. * If in crisis, call HELPLine at 779-HELP. * Contact Community Works of Medford at 779-2393. * Contact the Jackson County Council Against Domestic and Sexual Violence at 774-4988. * To inquire about programs for batterers: Call OnTrack Inc. at 772-1777 or Mary Ann and Terry Terrall at 772-4055. Mail Tribune Home | Ottaway Newspapers, Inc. | Dow Jones & Co., Inc. | Privacy | Contact Us Copyright � 2001 Mail Tribune, Inc.