When the System Protects Abusers and Fails Survivors

He once held a gun to my face. He locked away my firearms, passports, and social security cards, using them as weapons of control. He screamed at my daughter—and even put his hands on her. He threatened to tie a brick to my legs and toss me into the water while we were fishing, as casually as someone might comment on the weather.

He refused to let me shower unless he watched me undress. I chose filth over submission. And in the midst of this cruelty, he killed our cat, Princess. To this day, he has never revealed where he left her body, only smirking as he admitted to shooting her.

This is not just a story about one violent man. It is about a system that enables men like him to thrive.

A Pattern of Abuse

This man has two ex-wives and three children he refuses to acknowledge. He moved on to a fiancée, had a newborn reportedly born with special needs, and abandoned them too. When his family speaks of me, they dismiss me as “crazy”—a common tactic to silence survivors. And yet, if I were truly so unhinged, why did he attempt to reconcile with me? Why did he seek to return to the very person he terrorized?

He even sought a place within law enforcement, applying for a Michigan State Police internship. He was denied—not because he was remorseful, not because he confessed—but because he lied and his history caught up with him.

But the most sobering part of my story is this: I came forward, and the military refused to press charges. Even with a Military Protective Order in place, I was told to move on, to carry my trauma quietly, while he faced no real consequences.

The Broader Reality

My story is tragically common. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence (NCADV):

• 1 in 4 women will experience severe intimate partner violence in their lifetime.

• Firearms are used in nearly 70% of intimate partner homicides in the United States.

• Women in military communities face unique barriers to justice; a 2021 GAO report revealed that 62% of survivors of military sexual assault experienced retaliation after reporting.

  
  

The military justice system, despite reforms, continues to fail survivors. Protective orders mean little when enforcement is inconsistent, and abusers often exploit the chain of command or institutional indifference to escape accountability.

Why Forgiveness Isn’t an Option

Forgiveness is often framed as healing. But I will not forgive him. Forgiveness without accountability is complicity. Men like him should not be handed redemption; they should be confronted with the full weight of their actions.

What I want is not vengeance, but truth—and safety for the women who will inevitably come after me if silence prevails. Survivors should not have to rely on the luck of whether an abuser’s lies collapse under scrutiny.

A Call to Action

If you are reading this and recognize yourself in my story, know this: you are not crazy, and you are not alone. Abuse thrives in silence.

We must demand systemic change. That means:

• Expanding civilian oversight of military justice when it comes to domestic violence.

• Ensuring protective orders carry real enforcement, not lip service.

• Screening law enforcement applicants with rigorous background checks that include domestic violence histories.

• Believing survivors the first time they speak.

Resources for Survivors

• National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233) or thehotline.org

• RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network): 1-800-656-HOPE (4673) or rainn.org

• Military OneSource: 1-800-342-9647 (confidential support for service members and families)

Men like him deserve the harshest weight of truth, not the shelter of silence. My daughter and I survived him—and survival is not silence. Survival is testimony.

If institutions will not protect us, then our voices must.