Kerry
McCray
September 22, 2003
As a police chief, Bill Eldridge thought he knew all about domestic violence.
What he didn't know was what it is like to be the father of a domestic
violence victim.
Eldridge, who heads the Livingston Police Department, noticed 16-year-old
Kristen coming home with bruises on her arms and legs about four years
ago. His wife would ask her what was wrong.
"She'd say, 'We were wrestling, we were playing, we were kicking
the soccer ball and he kicked me on accident,'" Eldridge said. "There
was always an excuse."
Then, one night, Kristen came home with a black eye and a cut lip. She
said her boyfriend hit her.
Her father raged. He never imagined his bubbly, blond daughter would
be the victim of a crime that he dealt with daily as a patrolman.
Eldridge and his wife, Debbie, called police in Merced -- where the Eldridge
family lives -- and reported the abuse. They hung up on the boyfriend
when he called the house. The calls stopped and Kristen stopped seeing
the boy.
Although Kristen may have felt alone at the time, cases like hers are
probably a lot more common than people think, said Nancy Fisher of the
Stanislaus County Health Services Agency.
"I don't think kids talk about it, and those who work with kids
don't ask enough questions about it," said Fisher, a supervising
public health nurse.
"These kids are vulnerable because they haven't learned what healthy
male-female relationships are."
Children who grow up around domestic violence can be victims, too, often
of physical abuse. Forty percent to 60 percent of men who frequently assault
their wives also abuse their children, according to the Corporate Alliance
to End Partner Violence.
Statistics reveal that children who come from violent homes have other
problems:
· Boys are likely to become abusers. Girls may grow up to become
victims.
· Babies often cry excessively and have eating and sleeping problems.
· Older children can become withdrawn or violent with playmates.
· They battle depression, bed-wetting, ulcers, and drug and alcohol
addictions, among other issues.
These children also tend to tune out uncomfortable situations, said May
Rico, associate director of the Haven Women's Center of Stanislaus. That
coping method may be OK at home, but it does not work at school, where
children are expected to pay attention.
"They turn off what's happening around them," Rico said.
A Woman's Place in Merced runs a shelter where director Diana Almanza
said she sees children copying their fathers' behavior: a boy yanking
his mother's hair, teen-age boys telling their mothers what to do.
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Even if not physically abused themselves, children suffer from seeing
and hearing the hitting, the shoving, the yelling.
"At our shelter, we have kids acting out, pulling light fixtures
from the ceiling, prying off light socket covers," Rico said. "It's
a way to say they're angry."
Haven staff members teach children that stopping the violence in their
homes is not something they should take on.
It is dangerous for children to try to break up fights or protect one
parent, said Melissa Hill, a Haven employee who helps teach children how
to stay safe in a program called Kids Count.
In the after-school classes, at Modesto's Orville Wright School, children
put together safety plans. They learn to call 911. They think of safe
places -- such as neighboring homes -- to go to if their parents are fighting.
They learn not to hit people, as they see their parents do, when they
are mad. Instead, they do an "angry dance" or count to 10.
"We're trying to teach the kids that it's OK to be angry, it's what
you do when you feel angry that matters," said Rachelle Currie, a
program manager with the women's center, which runs Kids Count with the
Modesto-based Center for Human Services.
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Parents whose adult children are being abused have different problems,
Almanza said.
If the parents have a healthy relationship, they may not understand why
their daughter stays in an abusive one. They ask, "Why don't you
just leave?"
The answer, Almanza said, is because they often fear their partner will
seek them out and kill them.
"Parents need to continually let her know, 'I care about you. I'm
concerned about your safety,'" Almanza said. "Give her a crisis
line number."
Sometimes, parents have experienced abuse themselves. Then, they may
be helpful and understanding.
"Or, they'll say, 'I got off my butt and left. Why can't you?'"
Rico said.
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Chief Eldridge has learned enough about domestic violence on the job
to understand why his daughter did not leave. She was afraid her boyfriend
would hurt her worse than he already had.
Eldridge understands that his daughter was caught in a cycle of power
and control. Kristen started to believe her boyfriend when he told her
that she was fat, that no one else would want to date her.
Those things still make her father angry. At first, he wanted to beat
the young man senseless. Instead, he called A Woman's Place, where a counselor
spoke to Kristen about eventually testifying in court against the young
man.
She never had to. He pleaded guilty and was sentenced to anger-management
classes. Eldridge said the young man ended up serving time for drugs.
"It still bothers me that I didn't do what I really wanted to do,"
Eldridge said. "Some dads would go over and do it, no doubt about
it."
Bee staff writer Kerry McCray can be reached
at 578-2358 or kmccray@modbee.com.
Bee staff writer Richard T. Estrada contributed
to this report.
Reprinted by permission of The Modesto Bee.
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