What is true love? I had to stop and think about the question at hand and really emerge myself into the last 10 years that I spent with my husband. Was it perfect? No. Did we make mistakes? Absolutely. How can I try to distinguish what it is that made us meant to be? How can I put a label on our relationship if our relationship was never the storybook fairytale you hear about in the movies? If our relationship was made into a movie, would it even be worth watching?
I’ve been asked for quite some time to tell the story about how we met because “everyone loves a good love story,” yet how we met doesn’t make us who we are now. How we became one is what made us who we are. As a team. As a whole. As partners for life.
I don’t think either of us could have expected to be where we are now when we first met. I was a 21 year old single mother living in a small backhouse apartment on the East Side, hoping to find myself again after the death of my son’s father. We weren’t together when he died but the angst I received after his death because of our lack of communication prior, damaged me. Of course the strong minded Leo that I am would’ve never admitted to that. I never made it an issue because I was ashamed of how I felt for him, a man that ignored his responsibility for two and a half years without recourse. At the time, I quit a data entry position I held at a Chicago Catholic charity to try to go back to school and change my son and my life. When admissions dropped the ball on my financial aid and never processed my paperwork I was left to find employment ANYWHERE to be able to pay my bills. The decision I made to leave that job killed me for years, a regret that I never realized helped develop my own path for success. So when I got a call from a family friend that her company just bought a new liquor store that needed cashiers, I jumped on the opportunity. I needed the money, my pride had to be placed on the back burner.
Walking into this interview I knew I could do the job I’ve been doing since I was 5 years old. My mother worked at a liquor store down the block for nearly 15 years. I’d spend my summers with my mom behind the register before any laws prohibited children to enter the premises. It was my first working experience, molding the work ethic I still hold to this day. As instructed, I asked for the manager Todd who, at the moment, was bent down stacking bottles on the bottom shelf in the aisle directly in front of me. When he heard his name, he got up and turned around giving me this smile and look as if he were surprised to see such a pretty girl interview for this minimum wage position at a dingy liquor store in Northwest Indiana. “So I got the job?,” I thought to myself. His smile made me blush and I instantaneously felt his attraction towards me. A playful mutual feeling that will always live with me.
When I started this job I was currently in a toxic relationship with a producer I’d been with for 2 years. We’d been off and on and off again but I was never open to looking for anything or anyone new. Spending such a long time with a man who had such a great relationship with my son was hard for me to let go of, regardless of how toxic it was for us. My patience was wearing thin and our inability to compromise on anything took a toll on me. I didn’t know who I was and what I wanted, having a man by my side who was so critical of my existence didn’t help.
One night after a cashier call off, Todd was forced to stay during the night shift so I wasn’t working alone. We spent the entire time discussing different things, including my current on and off again relationship. It was refreshing to talk with a man who was so sure of himself, mature and hardworking. Soaking in an opinion from a 32 year old man who was so well spoken, smart, and honest was enlightening. Him reminding me that any man who wants to take the responsibility of being with a woman with a child should be able to hold his own weight and help where he could. He was right, I set my bar so low I was being taken advantage of by a man who had big dreams but no real aspirations of building a life with me. He wanted me to change and I couldn’t, something I tried so hard to do from the moment we met. I needed to stay true to myself, flaws and all.
After that day I noticed him spending a little extra time in the Smoke Shop. Sticking around after his shift to organize the store and take care of things he had no time to do throughout the day. Our conversations got deeper and deeper as time went by. I found out that he had spent his entire childhood looking up to his grandfather who was an East Chicago Detective eventually becoming a Hammond Police Officer himself. After 6 months on the job, the hierarchy and politics were too much for him. He couldn’t arrest people for things he would do himself, so he let that go and never looked back. When he told me that I was really impressed. My years in South Chicago tainted my visions of police officers. At that point in my life I hadn’t met one clean cop so meeting someone that let go of a childhood dream over his conscience and morals showed me what kind of character this man had. Growing up with such hardworking parents it was nice to meet someone who was so invested in their work ethic, regardless of the position that was held. I was intrigued and it was incredibly sexy but work came first.
As time went by we both felt a genuine appreciation for each other’s presence. I worked my ass off for him, not because we had developed a friendship but because that is what I do. I WORK. I had started there working 2-10 PM shifts making $7.25 an hour, paying $500 for rent not including utilities, $70 for childcare per week for my son and not receiving a dime from public aide. Ask me how I did that now, I’d never know but I made it work. That $250 check a week meant more to me than anything at that point of my life. Regardless of my feelings, I wasn’t willing to risk losing my job over any relationship. PERIOD.
One day I went into work really upset after a bad argument with my ex. It was one of those breaking point arguments that even though we had been OFF at that moment, I was over the back and forth. Todd called into the store to let us know he’d be off the next few days due to the death of his grandmother. When I answered the phone, he automatically heard in my voice how distraught I was. After pleading with him that I was okay, he hung up just to call an hour later to make sure I was good. He just lost his grandmother and he was worried about me. I wasn’t used to having someone so concerned for me and my emotions. I’d been called “too much” for the last two years by someone I felt I loved and here was this man, concerned.
I finished my shift out and headed home to relax. It was about 11 PM during a thunderstorm, I remember being in bed wide awake when I got a call from Todd. STILL concerned with how I was doing! We talked until 4:30 AM that night. I found out more about his time on the force, his relationship with his deceased grandmother, his similar background being raised by hardworking parents, and how a drunk driving incident at 26 years old changed his life when he drove under a semi-truck almost killing 4 people. After losing his last job and years of probation and court, he had just put down an offer on his first home. I admired that about him, making a mistake and thriving to make the best out of it. Not living with constant regret but dealing with the problem at hand. I gave him a rundown of all the things my ex had a problem with, “I’m telling you now, I’m a tomboy with a lot of guy friends and I smoke, a little.” That “a little” is something he still rags me about now, but hey, I told him. With a little liquid courage he admitted his attraction to me, how he felt a connection through our conversations and admitting how he’d been sticking around just for an extra few minutes around my presence. We both weren’t willing to risk our livelihood over an attraction and knew that it was too risky to start something up. We were just going to take It day by day.
After a few weeks our connection continued to grow so we finally decided to have our first date on Saturday, May 16, 2009. He decided on a restaurant in Munster and afterwards heading to his friends bar in Whiting for a few drinks. After telling my closest cousin about the plan, she insists she wants to go. “Tell him I’m your cousin from Texas,” in her strongest Texan accent. Now thinking back I can’t imagine how he felt when I asked him if my cousin could come with us to the bar. When we picked her up he warned her, “Now I’m going to let you know now my friends are drinkers. You may think you can hang with these guys but they are professionals.” Still, she insisted she’ll be okay and she could hang. 7 hours later its 4:30 in the morning and my cousin is yanking on my coat whispering “it’s time to go” after being embarrassed from throwing up in the freshly cleaned pristine bathroom. We had a blast that night. Everything a first date should be with a tore up cousin in the back seat. We dropped her off and continued our night till daylight. I was hooked. I confessed to my friends and cousin the next day, “I really like him.” Of course my cousin responded, “If I had a nickel for every guy you’ve told me you liked I’d be rich.” Thanks cuz, thanks.
We were on Cloud 9. Still not sure what we were in for, we couldn’t tell anyone at work. When I tell you that we really didn’t expect anything to come from it we didn’t. Nothing could have prepared us for what was next. NOTHING.
On Thursday, May 21, 2009, a mere 5 days after our first date, I had a day off and decided to hit the studio. He was working late that night until around 10 PM and we planned for him to come over and hang out for a few hours after his shift. I got home from the studio about 8:30 PM with plans to shower before his arrival. My phone had been dead from my son playing games with my phone at the studio, trying to keep this just turned 3 year old from breaking thousands of dollars’ worth of studio equipment. As soon as I got home, I put my sleeping son on the couch and head upstairs to my room to place my phone on the charger and grab some clothes to shower. I wanted to make sure to wait for it to charge a little bit to reach out to Todd and let him know that I was home and to come over whenever he could. I plugged my phone in and grabbed a nail file to file my nails as I waited 5 minutes for the phone to power on. That was it. That’s all I remember before my life changed forever. Falling asleep by the grace of God because until this day I can’t imagine why I would knock out so quickly without being an ounce of tired. I had a plan that night and it all changed when I fell asleep.
“Get up.” I feel a nudge on my arm from tip of an automatic pistol. I woke up to two men pointing 22’s at my head with snapbacks and bandanas over their faces. “I said get the fuck up, bitch,” he repeated. Nothing in my wildest dreams could’ve prepared me for this. My son was downstairs sleeping on the couch as I hear numerous people ransacking my house while I have two men in front of me with pistols in my face. Instinctively I scoot to the end of the bed farthest away from them and tell them calmly, “Take whatever you want and get the fuck out of my house.”
Despite the situation I had this strange level of calm inside me that I’d never experienced before and haven’t experienced since then. I wasn’t afraid. I remember thinking at that moment that my life was about to end. I was ready to die, I was ready to meet my maker and I was ready for war. “Turn around and lay on your stomach,” the asshole instructed. Right then and there I thought that I was about to be raped. I pleaded again as I cooperated “I have nothing in my house! Take what you want and get the fuck out! I won’t call the cops!” He continues to straddle my back as he tied up my hands. I continue my pleading “Don’t do this! I have nothing!” He responds, “Shut up, bitch!” as he strikes me in my head. I remember thinking how his punch didn’t even hurt. This coward thought that hitting me was going to do something and IT DIDN’T EVEN HURT. I was preparing myself for war and I didn’t even know it. As he pulled me up the other masked gunman places a t-shirt over my head. They had to be amateurs because as he placed the t-shirt over my head I realized that the neck hole portion of the shirt left my right eye exposed. They walked me over to my sons room which was directly next to mine. I noticed a few pairs of gym shoes on the floor without shoestrings. How did they have this time to come in and do all of this? How did I not wake up? I’m usually a light sleeper and wake up for a pin drop but all of a sudden today I was out cold?! It all made no sense.
“Where’s the shit?! We know who you be having over here. Quit playing with us and tell us where it’s at,” the asshole protested. As we enter my sons room they instruct me to go into his closet, a large space big enough to fit his dresser and a few people comfortably. I plead again worried about my son, “What shit?! I don’t have anything! Please don’t do this. Can I please see my son?! Please don’t hurt him.” I truly believe that God puts people in your life at the right moment in time. The man who placed the t-shirt on my head said very softly and calmly in my ear, “We’re not going to hurt him. Please just be quiet and sit in the closet. This will all be over soon.” I know that this man just invaded my home but I was so thankful for him at that moment. The calm in his voice comforted me in this tremendous moment of turmoil. I know it was his voice that gave me strength that day, I felt his sorrow. I felt as if he knew me but didn’t realize it was my house when he agreed to rob a home. As I entered the closet I was asked to get on my stomach again as they hog tied my feet together. As soon as they tied my feet I knew I could get out of it but stayed quiet. As I was laying on my stomach the man watching me said “Why are you bleeding?” Bleeding? How was I bleeding? “Where?,” I replied. “On your head.” He lifted me up to a sitting position, his tone made me feel like he was pissed that the asshole did that to me. That it was unnecessary. Here I am thinking this man punched me and it didn’t hurt. He pistol whipped me AND IT DIDN’T HURT. I needed that. That confidence to know that my survival skills were on point, that I was going to survive, and that I was stronger than I ever knew myself to be. As I was sitting in the corner of this closet I can hear these men going room to room dumping drawers out on the floor and taking anything of value. I remember that was the moment I knew God was at my side. I found myself asking for God to forgive these young men as they knew no better. To not punish them for their wrong doings and that it was because of their surroundings that they were forced into this life. Here I am hogtied, made a victim in my own home, bleeding from the head and I’m praying for these young men.
All of a sudden the asshole returns to the closet and places the gun directly to my head. At this point they realized I could see and properly covered my eyes. “I’m going to ask you one more time, what else do you have in this house.” I responded, “nothing.” I didn’t have anything. I worked the past 6 years of my life to live paycheck to paycheck at a $7.25 per hour cashier job. My furnishings were from second hand stores. My clothes from the thrift store. I had nothing else to hide. When I responded I felt him rubbing cards on my arm. “You feel that?,” as he continues rubbing back and forth. “That’s your ID and social security card, you call the cops and I swear I’ll come back and kill you. Where are your keys for the back gate?,” he asked. My keys. The steel back gate that exited into the alley behind 105th and Ewing was mandatory to stay locked by my landlord who lived in the house directly in front of me. How could he not hear what was happening? How can this all be happening? My keys had my car keys on them and all I thought about was how I had to work in the morning. I told them where they were pleading that they didn’t take my car. “I have work in the morning.” Who says that to robbers as they are robbing you? I did because that what I do, I work. I had just been robbed and all I was worried about was missing a day of pay.
As they were finishing up, two people tied me to a wooden chair. My wrists, elbows, calves and feet were tied to it. The entire time I had not gotten hysterical. I kept my calm and spoke to them in a calm yet stern voice. I was prepared to die. It wasn’t until I heard the last person leave that the tears started rolling. “Frank!” I screamed. Not knowing if my son was still safe on the couch I pleaded for him to help his mommy. “Frank!,” no response. As I screamed out for help it seemed like forever passed while tied to that chair. I had never felt so vulnerable in my life than what I did at that moment. I had gotten out of my ties connecting me to the chair and ran downstairs with my hands tied in front of me. My house was in shambles. They took everything worth money out, my box TV that turned off every so often, my stereo system that Frank broke, and my DVD collection, probably the most valuable belonging they got from me. My baby, the little light sleeper like his mommy, slept the entire time. As I nudged him and cried out for him to awake he barely reacted. He was out cold so bad I remember thinking they drugged him to stay asleep. He finally barely opened his eyes just to knock right back out and I ran outside screaming for help. My neighbor and his girlfriend had just gotten home and he ran outside with a wooden bat. He heard in my voice that something was wrong and came out ready to fight. He untied me right away and mentioned he saw a girl he had over his house a few weeks earlier parked in the back alley with the car on when they got home. She set me up. According to news I found out later, she used to mess around with my sons father. She must’ve seen that I was living alone while visiting my neighbor and thought he left me some money. He was real hardcore into the drug trade and even though he was said to have had made great money before he was killed, he moved his weight and stash around and nobody knew where it was. This bitch thought that everything that I worked for was from him, when I hadn’t spoken to him for years prior to his death.
The first phone call I made was to Todd. To this day I have no idea why he was the first I called. I told him what happened and he told me he was on his way. At that moment I wasn’t sure why this had happened and all I could remember in my head was that this asshole had my ID and social security card and he was going to kill me if I called the cops. I was so worried about what would happen as soon as I walked to the front of my house so I had my neighbors girlfriend hold onto Frank until my parents got there to pick him up. I called my parents second and let them know what happened. My ID had their address so I had to make sure they were on high alert in case they head to their house next. I told them to wait until I called them back to go get Frank from my neighbor and to keep their guard up should something else happened.
Todd showed up in 7 minutes. It took him 7 minutes to get from the Northside of East Chicago, Indiana to 105th and Avenue L. 7 minutes. As I walked towards the front of the house I remember still feeling uneasy. I remember thinking that I was going to have a bullet in my head the second I walked outside of the gangway. I jumped in his truck safely and we went directly to my parent’s house. My parents had already notified my uncle and his family of the robbery. They lived right down the block from me so my cousin had already ran to pick up Frank safely from my neighbors. They didn’t know Todd’s truck so I remember my mom answering her door with my father directly behind him holding his pistol for protection. I never seen my dad like that. So amped up ready for war just like I was. My mom told me that she called my landlord with the news and that he called the cops. I gave them both hugs, jumped back into the truck and Todd drove to his parents’ home. Within 20 minutes I had the police calling Todd’s phone asking for information saying that I had to go back to the scene to make a statement. After everything that I had just been through I was deathly afraid to go back to the apartment. I agreed to meet them at the 4thDistrict police station to make my statement. Todd refused to let me go alone and agreed to take me to the station. I had no idea how badly I needed him there because I had no idea what was about to happen.
We arrived at the station and the detectives assigned to the case insisted that I enter the interrogation room alone. Thank God Todd had his experience in the field because he told them straight up, “I’m not leaving her anywhere alone.” I walk into the room with the lead detective asking me questions about the robbery. He was very calm but persistent in saying “we know who did this.” He pulls out two photos of men that were associated with Frank’s Father. “We know who your son’s father is and we know who killed them.” Pointing at the picture he says, “These are the men that killed your sons father. These were the men that were in your house today.” I knew something was off. How could they be sitting on this information so long and feel as if because of who my kids father was, that they came into my house to rob me? It made no sense. I knew who both these men were and although the robbers came in with their faces covered, I knew for a fact that these weren’t the men in my house. These detectives were trying to force me into a false statement. I knew what that would become. Not only would that mean that this gang would be after me for tricking, I’d be lying because I didn’t really know who was in my house. After they noticed I wasn’t budging they had a woman detective come into the room trying to use intimidation as a tactic to find out something I honestly didn’t know about. After all I had just gone through, I had grown men and women treating me like a criminal because I had a child with a deceased criminal and well known gangbanger. I was guilty by association. It didn’t matter how many years I paid taxes to pay for these detectives salaries and it didn’t matter that I had no criminal record. I was guilty by association. This woman threw it in my face that there’s no way I wasn’t involved in this. That I had to have something in my home for them to do what I did. It was my fault this happened. Why would I not call the cops if I had nothing to hide? The fact that I was afraid for my life had nothing to do with it? The fact that I was just made a victim in my own home had nothing to do with it? Or the fact that these people had my parents address in their possession was not a good enough reason to be frightened.
Todd was shocked. He couldn’t believe that after everything I had been through I had people who were supposed to protect me accusing me of being involved with making me prisoner in my own home. All because I wouldn’t give a false statement? He had enough and called them all out. As I stood there quiet and reserved he turned it up a notch, noted that he was a former police officer and told them all that they should be ashamed of how they were treating a single mother who just had her home invaded by masked gunman. Reminded them of the oath they took to protect and serve their community as they hound a woman who was just tied up to a chair. He had my back at I time I felt helpless. They backed off and let us go.
Now I understand that this story may not be the quintessential storyline of true love but this is our reality. This was the day that made us one. A man that had my back and stood up for 48 hours straight to make sure I was safe.
To this day I can’t imagine what would’ve happened had I not fell asleep that night. I could’ve been naked in the shower. I could’ve been up and alert, on defense mode which wouldn’t have been beneficial to my survival. I could’ve been responsible for the death of my soon to be husband, had he been there when he was supposed to be. I may never know who was in my house specifically or why they did what they did but I realized how many people really had my back after that. Every single one of those people were punished. It was a shitty under the table robbery that wasn’t reported to their gang’s leaders prior to executing. I had friends in high ranking positions that had members violated for the robbery. From what I hear, the asshole that pistol whipped me is spending his life in jail for killing an innocent man in broad daylight because of the color of his skin. Maybe that life could’ve been saved had my detectives followed up on leads that I tried to give them. 4 years after my robbery the entire 4th district police precinct was reprimanded for corruption, working with the gang that led my robbery. The male detective that tried to force the fake statement, was terminated.
I told myself the day this happened that I’d let vengeance be the Lord’s. He who saved me that day, knocked me out, kept me calm, kept my son asleep and stood by my side as I prayed was more than capable of handling this for me. He did. This is a day that could’ve broken me and brought me through a life of turmoil has become the day we call our anniversary. Don’t get me wrong, I still suffer from PTSD from this day. The month of May alone triggers an unexplainable anxiety that I’ve struggled with since it’s happened. I never wanted to be made a victim so there are people that have known me my whole life that know nothing about this. I hid it for a long time and to be honest, I avoided writing this. I am not the person I was when this happened. I am not the person I was when I had a mental breakdown after my cousins death that came directly from this incident. I am not the person I was when I met my husband.
One thing is for sure, this moment is imperative to my growth. Writing this today I feel a level of peace from getting it all out. I will always struggle with the effects that transpired from this day. I will always be a little more cautious, a little more aware, and a hell of a lot stronger. I fell in love with a man who saved me in every way on May 21, 2009. This day will not define me. This day will not win.
On May 21, 2009 I was a victim of a home invasion on the Southeast side of Chicago. This blog post is for the young men that were in my home that day because what didn’t kill me only made me STRONGER.
