Dangerous cycle

Kendra met Robert Lee Hawk in the late 1990s at a driving school. She was there to remove some points from her license for speeding; he was trying to get his license back.

Robert, about 6 feet 2 inches tall and 210 pounds, grew up in Venice, Calif., and at one point spent time as a boat captain. Kendra had strong feelings for him early on.

“It was like finding my other half,” she said. “Here we are, mid-life, finding the other person you want to be with. It felt like we were on the same wavelength.”

Kendra and Robert had talked about his struggles to stop drinking, and they both said he remained sober for the first 3 1/2 years they were together.

During that time, he treated her well and with each other’s support, they began building a future. Robert started at Frederick Community College, taking courses to complete high school. Kendra entered law school in Baltimore.

They took trips together and spent their first winter break traveling to Oregon to visit Robert’s mother and stepfather.

“The honeymoon period lasted for awhile,” Kendra said. “In hindsight ... he presented this part of him that may have been minuscule.”

Things began to change soon after the couple’s daughter was born in February 2001. The family was living in the Taskers Chance neighborhood and Robert began drinking again, Kendra said.

He could pound a half gallon of vodka easily, but if that wasn’t available, Robert, 47, had no problem mixing mouthwash with powdered drinks like Kool-Aid, she said.

“He doesn’t drink to be social,” Kendra said. “He drinks to put his head in the ground.”

Robert agreed things changed soon after their daughter was born. But he said it was Kendra who was different — that she became verbally abusive and controlling. That behavior drove him to return to alcohol, he said.

“She’s a mental bully,” he said. “Control is her big thing ... With all the abuse, I really feel like I’m the victim.”

Kendra said Robert was never violent with her until July 2001. He started an argument early one day, storming out and not answering his cell phone.

It became late and Robert hadn’t come home, so Kendra went outside to look for him, she said. She saw Robert slumped in his truck with a bottle in his hand.

She tried to take the bottle and encouraged him to come inside. That was the first time Kendra looked at her husband and was frightened. “It’s that staccato voice, that frozen look,” she said.

Robert snatched the bottle, and as Kendra backed away, he went after her.

She said he tried to prevent her from getting through a gate to their yard and as she broke free, she fell on the grass. Robert tried to slam the gate on her hand, but she pulled it away just in time and ran into the house when he stumbled. Robert recalls this episode, but said he simply slammed the gate in her face and that she didn’t like that. She couldn’t take it when she wasn’t in control, he said.

Kendra said she didn’t realize that was the beginning of larger problems.

“I thought we could work it out. I thought: ‘This is my partner,’” she said.

The desire to repair relationships is not uncommon among victims of domestic violence, who are often caught between conflicting feelings, according to experts.

Carrie Payne, a victim/witness coordinator with the Frederick County Sheriff’s Office, acts as a primary point of contact for many victims of domestic violence. She often sees firsthand the struggle they go through to get out of an abusive relationship.

“People are not at that stage of following through,” she said. “They’re still thinking he’ll change — they’re not classifying themselves as in a ‘domestic violence relationship.’ When you ask for help, you’re admitting a problem.”

Barbara Martin is the chief executive officer of Heartly House, an organization that has provided services to the county’s victims of domestic violence, sexual assault and child abuse for about 25 years.

People often ask her why the victims in abusive relationships don’t just get out, placing the responsibility on victims rather than abusers. That question misses the point, she said.

“They always ask, ‘Why doesn’t she leave him?’” Martin said. “How come no one asks, ‘Why is he hitting her?’”

Still, there are some clear reasons why it’s difficult for a victim of domestic violence to get out. One of the toughest hurdles is the cycle of violence, Martin said.

The cycle of violence has three stages — tension building, a violent episode and then a “honeymoon” period.

Subconsciously, victims may be constantly looking for a release from the tension of knowing an attack might come, Martin said. That actually makes some look forward to the relief that the violent episode brings.

And the “honeymoon” phase that follows can lead victims to believe their abusers might actually change.

That isn’t what usually happens, though, Martin said.

With domestic violence, as was the case with Kendra’s story, the attacks tend to become more frequent and more severe over time.

Bad to worse

Kendra said she never told her family or friends about the first time Robert tried to hurt her — she didn’t want them to form negative opinions about her husband.

Two months later, things became worse. Days after Sept. 11, 2001, Kendra came home from class an hour and a half early. She found Robert asleep on the bed. Seven-month-old Winter was in her crib nearby.

Kendra shook Robert, and when he awoke, he had that look again.

“It was like he wasn’t there,” she said.

Robert grabbed her and she backpedaled into the bathroom, she said. Gripping her neck, he pushed her into the bathtub, breaking the ceramic toilet cover and pulling down the shower curtain as he held her down.

“I remember thinking that I was going to die if I moved too much because my neck would snap,” Kendra said. “All I wanted to do was pick up my daughter.”

Kendra said he began slapping her and pulled her into the bedroom by her hair, telling her “this” was her fault, that she was causing “this.” At one point, he stepped back and she grabbed Winter and ran downstairs.

She didn’t leave the house until Robert followed her and threw Winter’s bassinet against the kitchen stove. Kendra remembers thinking that her daughter could have easily been inside.

She called her pastor from outside the house. He told her to call the police.

Robert recalled that he and Kendra were struggling, but said he never forced her into the tub. They fell together and Robert said he had to push on her chest and neck with his hand so he could get up.

Court documents state Robert pleaded guilty to second-degree assault for the September attack. He received unsupervised probation, along with a $1,000 fine.

Robert said an attorney convinced him to take the plea. Also, Robert said, he should have been the one calling police to create a paper trail, so that he would have equal standing with Kendra.

Robert implied that Kendra should have known better than to disturb him while he was drinking.

“One thing I’ll tell you is you don’t mess with someone when they’re drunk,” he said.

When Kendra called the police that night, she experienced an emotion that many victims of domestic violence have for their abusers — sympathy.

She didn’t want her husband to get in trouble, she said. She wanted to protect the man who, minutes before, was squeezing her neck as she lay in a bathtub, too frightened to move.

When police arrived, Kendra said, she purposefully kept her statement brief.

“I felt guilty,” she said. “I’m supposed to protect him.”

Working with prosecutors, Kendra made clear she didn’t want her husband to go to jail.

Robert began taking steps to show he would work on his drinking, she said. He entered counseling and didn’t touch a drop for weeks. “He was very good,” Kendra said. “He has strong survival instincts.”

Soon after, it started again.

A week or two after his November court date, Kendra sensed Robert was drinking and confronted him, she said.

Again, she saw that far-off look in his eyes.

Kendra said she was holding Winter, but that didn’t stop Robert from pushing her onto the bed and punching her.

“He punched me two times,” she said. “Once in the mouth ... my tooth twisted up ... I saw stars and blacked out.”

Kendra held Winter away from her body, to keep her as far from the blows as possible.

Robert believes Kendra’s recollection is a composite of multiple confrontations. He admitted to punching Kendra just once in their relationship, but said that was in response to a black eye she had given him.

“I hit her because she hit me in the eye ... I should have reported that,” he said.

In all, Kendra said Robert was violent with her about 10 times.

Court records do not indicate that many violent episodes, but Kendra filed a domestic violence claim against Robert in October 2002 and Robert pleaded guilty to second-degree assault for fighting with Kendra in May 2004. He was sentenced to 18 months in prison and three years’ probation.

Despite the turmoil, Kendra remained with Robert. She viewed their marriage as a partnership and, because he would only become violent when drinking, she thought she could help him, she said.

She said his violence was the result of a disease, and what kind of person would walk out on her husband because of a problem he didn’t have control over, like cancer or diabetes or, in Robert’s case, alcoholism.

“I was still trying to protect him,” she said.

Kendra hoped that with substance abuse counseling, Robert could get better, and they could return to a normal life, she said.

Mandatory counseling is one of the options judges have when issuing protective orders, though it’s not used as frequently as others, such as the mandatory surrender of firearms.

There’s a reason counseling isn’t frequently mandated, according to those familiar with protective orders.

Blaine Hoffmann, legal director for Heartly House, said he handles more requests for protective orders than any other attorney in Frederick County. He’s been with Heartly House for about a year, and over the past six years, he’s filed requests for about 1,800 such orders.

He said judges often don’t order abusers into counseling because of doubts among judges and therapists about the effectiveness of counseling entered unwillingly.

Frederick County District Court Judge Oliver John Cejka Jr. said mandatory counseling can be problematic for a number of reasons. First, any counseling that would require both parties to participate would be in direct contrast with the intent of a protective order and could be detrimental to victims.

Counseling can be too great a financial burden for some, especially those who are paying for divorce lawyers and struggling to maintain a household.

Also, counseling is most effective when the person who undergoes it takes it seriously, Cejka said. He believes those types of decisions are better left to the circuit courts. While most protective orders in Frederick County are handled through district courts, circuit courts are able to take a more comprehensive view of the situation.

Abuse victims seeking protective orders from district courts want temporary relief from a violent situation — whether it’s a few days, weeks, or, in the case of final protective orders, as much as a year. Circuit court judges are able to more broadly examine individual cases, which may include divorce proceedings, child custody issues, alimony arrangements and other factors, Cejka said.

Getting out

Things bottomed out for Kendra and Robert in February 2002.

Kendra said she found him drinking mouthwash mixed with Gatorade and, seeing he was calm, she dumped it out and tried to talk with him. He seemed to respond well and went to bed. But after Kendra put Winter in her crib, she went into the bathroom and noticed Robert walk past with a rifle in his hand. She ran out and took the rifle from him.

Later, Kendra awoke in the middle of the night after hearing a click, she said. She leaped out of bed, turned on the light and saw Robert sitting with his legs crossed, attempting to place the barrel of a .22-caliber rifle in his mouth.

Kendra began trying to pull the gun away and managed to grab the phone to call 911, she said. At the same time, Robert twisted his grip and yanked the rifle to him, placing the barrel in his mouth.

He pulled the trigger.

“It sounded like a little pop,” Kendra said.

The bullet missed his spine and passed through soft tissue only, exiting through his neck.

Robert was taken by helicopter to a hospital in Hagerstown. He was going to be OK.

Robert confirmed his attempt to take his life, but pointed out that the violence wasn’t directed toward Kendra. He said he was depressed, in part because of just how bad their relationship had become.

“She was very aggressive, very confrontational ... I truly believe many times that she wanted me to hit her,” he said.

A suicide risk, Robert spent a couple of weeks in psychiatric care at a hospital. He was diagnosed with severe depression and sent to a center for alcohol and mental health treatment. During that time, he recalled being abused at a young age, and doctors diagnosed him with post-traumatic stress disorder.

Experts say those who engage in domestic violence often have been abused themselves.

“It actually made it easier for me because now there was a diagnosis, something we could work with and something to combat,” Kendra said. “It made it easy to want to help, to take care of him. That was the worst thing — the feeling of thinking I could help ... the feeling of responsibility.”

Kendra wrestled with her desire to help Robert and her desire to protect herself for the next five years.

After each violent episode, he would take the steps law enforcement and the courts required of him to show he wanted to improve — counseling, employment, Bible study, Alcoholics Anonymous, she said.

After each time, they would reconcile.

That changed in early 2007. Robert had violated his probation for the May 2004 assault against Kendra. Court records state:

Robert admitted that he would drink in binges, and said his violation was evidence of that. He had gone on a binge and missed a session at the batterers program, which counselors were required to report.

About the time Robert was charged with violating his probation, Kendra filed for divorce.

A few days later, Robert called to tell her he was coming to her house and that he would take Winter away, she said.

“‘You know I can and you know what will happen,’” she said Robert told her.

He didn’t show up.

The day he called, Kendra filed for a final protective order from Frederick County District Court. It was granted about a week later.

In the order, he was ordered to not contact her and to stay away from her home and workplace. The order also stated he must surrender any firearms.

Robert questioned why Kendra would take out a protective order against him when he was about to go to prison. Clearly it wouldn’t be needed if he was locked up, he said.

Kendra said she feared for her safety when he would be released and wanted to protect Winter.

Robert was released from the Frederick County Adult Detention Center on parole in April 2008. The detention center did not notify Kendra about his release.

The detention center offers a victim notification program, but Kendra did not know she needed to sign up for it. A federal program can also help notify victims.

Ideally, Kendra would like to figure out a way Robert could see their daughter and she would still feel safe. She’s not too optimistic, though. “I suspect he’ll leave Frederick,” she said. “I hope so. My biggest fear is that he’d up and leave with her — to get back at me.” Kendra’s desire to protect Winter was one of the reasons she stayed with Robert as long as she did. She said it seemed safer for her to be with both of them than to ever leave him alone with Winter.

Many victims stay with their abusers for years, and the reasons vary. Payne, the victim/witness coordinator, said the reasons include:

But leaving is just one step in a long separation process.

Obtaining a temporary protective order can be essential in getting out of an abusive relationship, but many victims don’t follow through in the courts to obtain a final protective order. Hoffmann, with Heartly House, said there are a number of reasons.

First, victims may be unable to obtain legal representation, especially if their abusers are the ones controlling the money, he said. Lawyers aren’t necessary to obtain the orders, but they can help.

Second, the abuser may have moved away and no longer have contact with the victim. Finally, the victim and the abuser may have reconciled.

“We can’t proceed without the victim,” Hoffmann said. “(Heartly House) represents the client and our goal is to empower clients.” In 2007 in Frederick County, 420 temporary protective orders and 214 final protective orders were granted, according to court records. Of the 214 final orders granted, 15 percent were rescinded.

Cejka said protective orders are useful tools in combating domestic violence, but the issue is much deeper.

“The problem we have is individuals who don’t want to abide by orders,” he said. “I don’t have an answer to that, and it’s happening across our country.”

By the time a domestic violence case makes its way to the courts, things have been festering for some time, Cejka said.

“We deal with folks after the fact,” he said. “We see them for a short time and for people who have developed sociopathic behavior, we’re limited in what we can do.”

The heads of other agencies that work with domestic violence cases are similarly frustrated by the repetitive nature and frequency of the crime.

Nearly two-thirds of the cases Payne’s office handled in 2007 were related to domestic violence, and law enforcement officers are often called repeatedly to the same home for reports of domestic violence.

While it can be difficult to compile precise statistics because domestic violence is tracked in a number of ways, in the first quarter of 2008, there were 321 assaults in the City of Frederick, according to police statistics. Of those, 50 were related to domestic violence.

Frederick County Sheriff Chuck Jenkins suggested domestic violence in the city may be reported more by third parties, as people who live in rural areas are farther from their neighbors.

Kim C. Dine, chief of the Frederick Police Department, said officers responding to calls for domestic violence face complex challenges. “It’s a volatile situation, there may be weapons, and police are called to be peacemakers,” he said. “But they’re viewed as not that when the family begins to take sides. When officers take action, they become the bad guy ... you have multiple parties not viewing police as a positive entity.”

Dine advocates a comprehensive approach to combating domestic violence that includes working closely with other relevant agencies, or as he calls them, “stakeholders.”

Counselors, advocates and prosecutors must also cope with victims who change their minds. Victims are the ones who can improve their situations, but in many abusive relationships, abusers have asserted a level of control that makes victims feel impotent.

“The victims haven’t had any power to make decisions for a long time,” Hoffmann said.

Protection

Kendra now lives with Winter and their three large German shepherds. She spends much of her time doting on her daughter and working with her clients, some of whom are victims of domestic violence themselves.

Robert lives at the Safe Haven Shelter in Westminster. He has a girlfriend and they are saving money so they can get married. He said he is on a path with God and prays for Kendra and Winter.

“I want the record to show that Winter is my biggest concern ... I want Winter to enjoy my view of things that you don’t have to yell to get your way ... Winter needs to know that a cool-headed person loves her,” he said.

Kendra’s protective order against Robert expired in April, and she said she doesn’t plan to pursue an extension since Robert has not contacted her.

Protective orders can be helpful in a victim’s effort to remove herself from a dangerous situation, but they are far from perfect, said Frederick County Assistant State’s Attorney Teresa R. Bean, who specializes in prosecuting domestic violence cases.

Victims often rescind requests for protective orders out of fear. On another level, victims often decline to help prosecutors try a case against their loved ones.

“A victim’s refusal to cooperate is her attempt to stay alive,” Bean said.

Bean said getting victims to testify against their attackers is one of the most difficult parts of her job because a victim is at the greatest risk when she decides to stand up to her abuser. At that moment, the abuser begins to sense he is losing control and may lash out.

Despite the danger, law enforcement experts say the best chance for the victim’s safety is a successful prosecution. That may only be possible with the cooperation of the victim.

“My job deals with constantly talking a victim into her own safety,” Bean said.

According to some nationwide estimates, just 4 percent of the victims in domestic violence cases that ended in a fatality sought help from agencies that provide services to victims, Martin said.

In 2005, the latest year for which data were available from the federal Bureau of Justice Statistics, 1,181 women and 329 men nationwide were killed by an intimate partner.

Statewide, the number of people who died as a result of domestic violence in the past 20 years peaked between July 1993 and June 1994 at 91, according to MNADV statistics. The average per year during this period is about 67 and from July 2006 to June 2007, the total dropped to 52.

Jenkins said, anecdotally, he has seen an increase in domestic violence over the past few years. Some of that can be attributed to a poor economy, but he sees a larger problem.

“There’s an overall decline in the family environment, a weakening of the family structure,” he said. “Law enforcement can’t fix a bad marriage.”

For Bean, one of her biggest challenges in protecting victims is what she refers to as the “one free slap” rule.

In the late 1990s, the Maryland General Assembly passed a law that limits the number of times a spouse to assert his/her right not to testify against an attacker to just one. The assertion of marital privilege cannot be removed from the record, even if the case is dropped.

But that small notation in the record, without the victim’s testimony, is not enough, according to Bean. She would prefer it if no such right existed.

To counteract the difficulties in prosecuting domestic violence cases, the state’s attorney’s office works with members of law enforcement on what Bean calls evidence-based prosecution. She tells police that when they respond to a domestic violence call, they must operate as if the case will be prosecuted without the victim’s testimony.

Officers are taught to gather an abundance of evidence, such as neighbors’ statements and pictures of broken furniture, to build a strong enough case.

“If you did what you did to your loved ones to a co-worker or a stranger on the street, society would have no problem putting you behind bars,” Bean said.