They call my friend a murderer; Joanna Madonna

Today her trial begins. It's been two years and three months since he died. Two years and three months since she saved her own life, at the expense of his. Two years and three months in county jail, with no fresh air, no sunshine on her face, no smell of cut grass and earth. 

Today the next phase begins.

I'm haunted by the word. Murder. It's familiar, all too familiar. It appears every day in news stories, in fiction, in tales of horror and on tv. It holds a special fascination, a sense of awful otherness. It could not apply to someone I know. 

Murder is a concept, the killing of another human being within specifications defined by law. But that's not what the word brings up for most of us. It's not a matter of preconditions and legal parameters, the dry language of law books. It's fraught with midnight danger, the stranger in the bushes or under the bed, the nightmare of blood and lust and revenge or greed. And the murderer is the ultimate bad guy.

Joanna is an alleged murderer. That's her charge and there's the body of her husband to prove it. But she's not a murderer to me. She's not a threat that will rob you of sleep, or haunt the dark corners of midnight. She's my beloved friend.

She's the person with a ready laugh, a listening ear, a shoulder to lean on, a sheltering presence. She's the woman who looks for the bright side and resolutely seeks silver linings. The person I know is not unkind, not rageful, certainly not a murderer. And yet . . .

This morning at ten a.m. the judge will pound his gavel and the trial will begin. Her fate is unknown, though the death penalty was taken off the table six months after her arrest. The news cameras and reporters are at the ready. It's not your run-of-the-mill murder trial. It's high profile in this neck of the woods; she a former teacher, he a disabled veteran. The newly elected District Attorney is coming out of her bureaucratic office and prosecuting the case herself. It has all the trappings of good theater.

Joanna and I talk on the phone every week. We discuss, not the case, but what led her to this point, what could have been different, what will be different, no matter the outcome. She could be acquitted. She could get life in prison. Or it could be anything in between. It's not often that any of us comes to such a stark turning point in life.

I've learned many things while Joanna has been locked up. We've had as deep discussions as possible in ten minute monitored phone calls, occasional "visits" by video at the jailhouse, and rambling, speculative, thoughtful letters, also shared with anonymous strangers in the mailroom. We've explored the pitfalls of false pride, secrets, fear and codependence. We've shared strengths to be found in honest inquiry and sobriety, in faith and doubt. We talk about parenting our children and education and the challenges faced by her autistic daughter. We've each lost a beloved parent during her incarceration and been able to comfort each other through the following grief and helplessness that knows no boundaries of lock and key.

I will be there today, and all the subsequent days. The jury will hear testimony. Attorneys will present cases based on evidence. People at work and at home, with no stake in the case except opinion and emotion, will debate and defend and attack based on nothing more than 800-word news articles. I'll try not to read comments.

Her daughters, her family, her friends and acquaintances will all watch closely as the woman they know will have her life dissected in the public eye, entertainment for the 6 o'clock news, morality tale and horror story. Will truth come out? Will justice prevail? Is that even possible?

I guess we'll see.

It's not a Bandwagon

Ever since the Ray Rice story broke and people discovered intimate partner abuse, I have been troubled. Not because it shouldn't be talked about. I welcome the conversation. It's long overdue. What troubles me is my friend, Joanna.

Some of my avid readers (!) may remember this post about Joanna's arrest. Her husband was found murdered and she was arrested the next day. Everyone who knew her was shocked; it seemed like a terrible nightmare. She has been in Wake County Jail ever since, awaiting trial. The trial date is set for January 19, 2015.

As her friend and mentor, I have been in continuous communication since she was incarcerated. Over the past fifteen months, we have corresponded by mail, by weekly phone calls, and a few video visits. Most of her very limited visitation time is reserved for her children.

During the course of this ongoing conversation, we have explored ---- without going into details of the events of June 15 ----- what brought her to this place in life. Domestic abuse and dependence play heavily into her life story.

When we see the video of Ray Rice hitting and dragging his partner out the elevator, it is shocking in a visceral way. There is no avoiding how violent it is, how wrong. But as horrible as physical violence is ---- and no one disputes that ---- it is not the only form of abuse which occurs in "private" situations. The ramifications of verbal and sexual abuse, mental cruelty, isolation and threat of violence reach far into families and relationships. They don't leave visible marks. They are easy to dismiss as lapses of temper or judgment, isolated instances rather than a systematic pattern of control and terrorization. They can have terrible consequences.

I am fortunate not to be among the 1 in 3 American women to suffer intimate partner abuse. It crosses all lines of wealth, age, social position, race, religion, and education. Sociologists, psychologists, law enforcement, medical providers and clergy have probed and debated the causes and response to domestic violence for many years. I have no idea, even after doing some of my own research over the past year, whether we're any closer to understanding and finding effective prevention or treatments for people whose lives are shattered by the many faces of this problem. I do know that it will never be "one size fits all."

Joanna has told me she was ashamed for anyone to know what was happening behind closed doors.  She felt unworthy and embarrassed, as though she'd been taken in and made a fool of. Who ever wants to admit they've been conned, right? But that shame, combined with fear of consequences, provided fertile ground for tragedy.

Her story will come out. It will be hashed in the media, as situations like this always are. Everyone who watches or reads the news will have opinions and beliefs about the case. It will be adjudicated and whatever comes of that will be the new condition for her and for all the people touched by those terrible events. Two families and countless friends were devastated by Jose's death and Joanna's incarceration. None of them will ever be quite the same.

It happens every day in this country. How many more? 

If you want to get involved: enoughnc.org