IGNITING A SPARK WITHIN

Written by sumatime on December 8, 2011

Our director (and my sister) Kelley Whitis was asked to speak at a local theatre where 7 writers share their personal narratives on one subject.  Kelley's was JUSTICE.  She moved the sold out audience to tears and made them laugh but more importantly found her voice and shared her story.  That is a part of the healing journey.  You connect with humanity when you share your experiences: joy, pain, fear, ect.  I wanted to share her words that she spoke at SPARK OFF ROSE this past Monday:

"On June 5, 1988, my mom drove me and my sisters, ages 12 and 8, to meet my dad halfway between Dallas and Hallsville where he lived with his new family. We were going to stay with him for a few weeks during summer break while my mother, who separated from her second husband a week earlier, looked for another job and moved our belongings to a smaller apartment. We met my Dad for lunch at Dairy Queen. They had been divorced for six years, but remained friendly because of us. I hugged my mom goodbye not knowing this was the last time I would ever see her.

Late that night, when Mom was home alone, my stepfather Bob showed up drunk and emptied his gun, six bullets, into my mother’s head. I was 16. My life changed in that moment.

My stepfather had decided if he couldn’t have her, no one else would. He was “that” husband. He bought her a bumper sticker that said, “I ‘heart’ my husband,” got them matching flannels at Christmas, and forbid her to wear a bikini in the summer. I disliked him from the moment I met him. It still hurts to think my mother probably married him for financial security for her three daughters. Now, I hated him and wanted justice for my mother’s murder.

Two months later, the trial began. My dad and step-mom relocated to Dallas to keep us in the same school. So every morning during the trial, my sisters, my step-mom, and Dad would load up into his tiny Nissan for the 30-minute ride to the courthouse in downtown Dallas.

The Prosecuting Attorney became Superman to me. In fancy legal terms, he promised “No acquittal” justice, and reminded us, “in Texas our juries love the death penalty.” This District Attorney reminded me of one of my favorite childhood heroes from the Saturday morning cartoon show, SUPER FRIENDS and their “Justice League of America”. As a child, I would run around in my Wonder Woman under-roos with tin foil made into bulletproof wristbands and my jump rope as my Lasso Of Truth and save neighborhood cats from danger or release my sisters who were being held pretend hostage in a closet. Now, I daydreamed about becoming Wonder Woman, the attorney, punishing my stepfather with the help of powerful legal words.

Two weeks later the jury walked out with their decision. Bob, the murderer, was sentenced to 75 years in Huntsville State Prison. He would be up for parole in only 15 years. That’s it? “That’s not justice,” I thought. What happened to Superman’s promises?

Quickly, I turned from a justice-seeking-wanna-be-attorney-in-a-smart-suit to a very dark place. After the sadness, the pain, the grief, and the depression, anger began to set in and take their places.

During my first year of college in Lubbock, Texas, I was lonely and angry. Not a good combination. Alcohol numbed the anger, men and sex helped with the loneliness. It was a vicious cycle that was serving me well – or so I thought. I was popular, desired, and best of all, no one knew about my mother’s murder. But it was always on my mind. I still wanted revenge.

One of my boyfriends was the son of a bail bondsman. We would rendezvous at his father’s shop. One night he showed me his gun, a Smith & Wesson 38 Special. After a few shots of whiskey I began thinking that I could kill Bob with that gun. I begged him to let me borrow it…or shoot it…or just teach me how to shoot it. Thankfully he did not give in. Instead we just had sex…and more whiskey.

The whiskey wore off the next morning, but the fantasy of killing Bob did not.

I thought maybe I could become one of those crooked cops and kill Bob, then use my job as my cover. But before this fantasy took hold, I decided to start a new life with my youngest sister Summer in Los Angeles. Our middle sister Amanda joined us two years later. We’ve remained tightly bonded, as our own little family, under one roof. My fresh start in new surroundings was still haunted and darkened by thoughts of revenge.

My new revenge fantasy was to become an FBI agent. Could I finally find justice as a corrupt agent? This time, I took action even filling out the FBI’s application form:

“Have you taken illegal drugs?”

“Yes”

“What kind?”

“Marijuana”

“How many times in the past year have you taken the above drug or drugs?”

“Nine times.”

I knew it was exactly nine, as I had never done drugs until I moved to California – cross my heart. My next-door neighbor was a pothead and after being called a goody-two-shoes one too many times, I agreed to try it. And then I tried it again. And again. Nine times over.

When my official letter arrived from the FBI, I ripped it open. “Dear Kelley, We regret to inform you that you cannot be considered for the Federal Bureau of Investigations due to your admitted drug use…and your record of drug use will stay on file indefinitely with the Bureau should you ever reapply.” I thought honesty was appreciated by the FBI?

Meanwhile, murderer Bob supposedly found religion in prison. What a joke. And I was still suffering. At least he had been denied parole twice. A new friend suggested I join him in working with under privileged children through a local organization in South Central. I didn’t expect in helping these children I would also heal myself. However, I still held on to the anger and wanted revenge.

Then I had an epiphany one night while working out at Equinox. I was about a mile into my run on treadmill and the local evening news was on the TV in front of me. The segment was about the father of a fatal drive-by shooting and the grandfather of the killer. They were working together to put an end to gang violence - touring the country speaking to high school students about unity, respect, and forgiveness. I was still running but tears were uncontrollably streaming down my face. I thought, ‘how were these men able to come together and make something beautiful out of something so horrible? How were they even able to face each other? Would I ever be able to face Bob’s family…or even him?’

This story on the evening news stayed with me. My wishful thoughts of revenge were slowly being replaced with thoughts of: What if I had killed him? I would have also hurt his family. And then maybe they would go through the same reactions I had of wanting justice and revenge. And what about my family? Where would the cycle of revenge end? If I had succeeded in killing him, it would have ended my life, too.

My sisters and I are starting a foundation to help women around the globe find their voice so they’ll never feel forced to settle for a man like Bob. We are also working with the Texas Department of Criminal Justice in setting up a face-to-face meeting with Bob. I don’t know what I want to say to him, but I do know that I no longer want to kill him.

I’m beginning to find justice by setting myself free from the chains of looking to punish Bob. Nothing can justify my mother’s death. Hurting him will not bring her back. I can only continue to find ways to help others and heal myself."

Follow her blog at http://kwhitis.tumblr.com/