Has Anybody Here Seen My Old Friend Richard?
August 3, 2002
by Trudy W. Schuett
As one of the few women in the men's movement, I see things from
a different perspective, and thought all would appreciate knowing
about the most recent event. This may galavanize efforts with activists
internationally, since many people were closely following the pro se
(self representation) efforts of three men in Northern California in
their divorce cases.
I wrote the following just last
night after hearing the news:
I've heard about this happening; some
of the guys I know have joked about it. A few times over the past two
years I'd notice that somebody who'd been active online was suddenly
gone and unreachable by e-mail.
Early last year there was a guy I
knew only as a minister and an e-mail addy suddenly disappeared. He
was being abused by his wife, but refused all of my suggestions of counseling
referrals. He was terrified that his church superiors would find out
and he'd lose his job. I told him everything I knew to do, how to handle
it as best I could. I'd hear from him a couple of times a week, usually
during the day, although I knew he'd been camping out in his office
for months, afraid for his life if he went home. Then one day he was
just gone. My e-mail bounced and that was it.
I still hope that he's out there somewhere,
and that the reason he disappeared was that he found the ability, or
whatever it was he needed, to leave his batterer. They had no children,
so it's possible he's found himself a niche in a little church far away
enough she can't find him. Not that she'd look, most likely. It's really
a myth that abusers always go stalking their victims. I tell myself
he's probably safe now, and try not to think about it. One way or another,
he's safe with his God.
For that reason I've tried to keep
my distance. I try not to get too comfortable with anybody I know who
is involved in an active divorce case, or being currently abused. I
pass along such information as I can and don't get personal. In days
past, I worked at a food bank where a big part of my job was telling
people "no." Some of the volunteers called me the Wicked Witch
of the West, because I could stand firm no matter what names I was called.
It's really not all that hard to say no to a druggie who sold her food
stamps so she could get her hair or nails done. This is a small town
and we knew our clients. Very seldom did we take care of anybody in
serious, immediate need, and when we did, we knew it, and acted accordingly.
Things are different now. I try to
draw on my old Wicked Witch persona and she's not enough for what's
needed these days. I can't feel contempt for the men who approach
politely and soberly — in serious, immediate need. I understand
their desperation because I've seen it, I've heard it in their voices.
So I've learned to offer what little there is and back away quickly.
But you can't shield yourself forever.
Once in a while even the 'safe' guys find themselves in that all-too-familiar
and impossible place.
Richard had an attitude. He had things
figured out, or so he thought. He was going to fight the court system
on his terms, not theirs. We talked on the phone and I kidded him about
his British accent, and reminded him he didn't need to translate because
I knew the lingo. He'd apologize for doing all the talking, but I was
so sure, so positive he'd be the one to beat the system. I was
listening, and it sounded like he knew precisely what he and the guy
who'd cooked up the plan, were talking about.
I did my best to let the rest of the
people in the movement know there was something important about to happen.
Then another guy, Terence, was picked
off. I don't know how else to put it. His wife came home one day, assaulted
him, and he was soon off to jail on a domestic violence charge. Terence
had been a stay-at-home dad, so I really don't know where his X2B thought
he was going to get cash for child support. Terence had been one of
the members of a discussion group I belonged to. I don't think he knew
any more than anyone else what was coming.
The point is, that I knew these guys.
We e-mailed all the time; Richard was advising other guys, and doing
online stuff like everybody else. Terence was arguing philosophical
points with Tom online and then one day, boom, he's in jail. At the
time it seemed fortunate that he lived near Richard and so had a place
to go once he got out of jail. They were both positive about it all.
Now there was another dude in NoCal that would make history.
I can tell you right now it's not
going to happen. Tonight I heard that Terence and Richard have fled
the country. Their brilliant plan apparently failed, and they're in
the same place as any other divorced fathers. The impossible place where
the magic fountain pumps out money just because some judge says so.
The impossible place where insane people make rules that nobody can
follow, and every man goes to jail, thus beginning a cycle that never
ends, not even in death.
The buzz online tonight is somber,
and frightening. I won't repeat it. Anyone who has been paying attention
to the divorce industry lately can well imagine what is being said by
the men who may be next to go to the impossible place, and those already
there. All I can do is pray some more, and hope my buds are OK, wherever
they are.
Trudy W. Schuett
