Love, CharenLeigh

I kind of pushed this part back for a while and I think I am finally ready to speak on it. This is a raw part of the story. If you haven’t read Part 3, or previous parts to my story you should read them before this one.

After writing part 3 of my kidnapping I realized I had some unsolved issues circling around and causing my triggers to be ya know, triggered.  I did not realize until then that I had created another fear inside of myself. I had allowed a simple procedure and lack of respect from one individual to grow deeper into my subconscious daily. Here’s to realizing my problem and facing it head on, with my therapist’s help of course. 😉

I left off on part 3 back in September telling you all about how my kidnapping was playing out. I told y’all the events; from the angel who stopped to assist me until I got to the sheriff’s department in Jennings, FL to when I had to call my mom. The Jennings, FL, Hamilton County Sheriffs office was phenomenal. They handled their part so gracefully and never forgetting about me the victim in the meantime.

I was the victim, I was the person who had been victimized, robbed, kidnapped, and taken across state lines but the detective from where I was taken, who came to question me had completely forgotten about that part. I do not remember his name, partially because I have forced it out of my head forever. Maybe unknowingly, I like to think at least, he made me feel as if I had done something to provoke this man to take me.  That it was my fault. I had obviously held onto that feeling for a very long time.

The questioning did not take place until after he had been caught. The BOLO and having an iPhone worked out nicely. He had never turned my iPhone off after I was left on that dirt road and they were able to use my log in information to be able to find him. The “find my iphone” app really made the officers in Jacksonville find him pretty quickly, as he was at the car wash cleaning my car out. After he was taken into custody and questioned by authorities it was now my turn to be questioned. Where the initial crime took place is where the detective had to come from to question me. So there was a few hours before all that happened and I was just sitting at the office playing the waiting game. When the detective arrived he was literally jumping for joy to have been chosen to take this case. When the guy was apprehended he even exclaimed how excited he was to be able to “catch him” as it was his first kidnapping case. He never asked how I was or even shook my hand when greeting me. He just said, “Now let’s get started so I can charge this guy.”

The questioning went as follows: ( everything in parenthesis is kind of what my thoughts are now when I replay this scenario in my head)  

“What is your story? Because the guy we have in custody says he did not do it and that it was his friends that had taken you.” ( yes I know this may be their protocol, but from someone who was just taken against her will at gun point, can you imagine how I felt? Like was it really his friends, or was it him. Was there more people involved in  the kidnapping, and had he actually planned it?)

“Where did you meet this man? Had you been seeing this man around lately?” ( I met him when he put a gun to my head, what do you mean? )

“What were you wearing exactly when this guy saw you? Were you wearing provocative clothing? Where your breasts out?” (Let me remind you it is January 13.)

“Was he your drug dealer? Did you try to buy drugs from him previously?” (There was no drugs found on him.)

“The next step is choosing the man who did this to you out of a group of mug shots of 10 different people, we will show them to you all only once, one at a time and you will get about 10 seconds to look at each picture. I will then lay out the pictures out together and you will choose which one is the guy who did this.” (You want to talk about overwhelming, I should have known they would pull out 10 photographs of 10 men who looked almost exactly alike)

Not only at this point was I in tears, but I could not even recall what the man and his facial features were. I was starting to shake and question my own memory. I started to quickly ask questions. I wanted to know what would happen if I choose the wrong person. I wanted to know is this the last time I get to decide. I asked if I was going to have to meet somewhere and meet him personally again. I was nervous, I was scared, I was in fear, and I felt as if I had caused it myself. I was hysterical. My parents arrived shortly and joined me in the conference room with the detective and the photographs. They could tell immediately that I was not handling it well and asked for me to have a break.

The officer responds, “Take your time, but just know that the longer you take, the longer the man who may of done this to you could be out there. We do not know at this time if we even have the right guy.”

I took a break regardless and just sat with my parents for a little while and tried it again. I at the point could at least calm down enough to revisit the moments and try to picture the guys face in my head again. I choose a picture. I choose the one who looked the most like the guy. I immediately turned to the detective and asked if I had chosen the man who had been arrested in my car. His response plays in my head daily, “Oh we cannot tell you that, I just hope you choose the right one.” I then just prayed that the one I had chosen was the guy who actually had kidnapped me. Thankfully as the detective for that county left, the detective in Jennings reassured me it was the same man. That the man I had chosen from the list of terrible mug shots was the man found in my car.

I did not realize that the whole incident changed me also. I no longer saw deputies or officers as people who were out to help the community, all they cared about was “catching the bad guys” or “arresting someone”. Seeing an officer had become my trigger. The way that detective talked to me immediately following becoming a victim changed the way I looked at almost all people in uniforms. The police and sheriffs uniforms on a man caused me to hide. I did not want to have to face or talk to another one again.

Now if you know me, you know I am like my mama and have a heavy foot. I have had a few tickets in my day. So my first time being stopped by a cop after my kidnapping sent my body into complete fight or flight. I freaked out and started becoming hysterical. I am not sure if I scared myself or the cop more. I went into panic mode until I was almost loosing consciousness. The poor cop that day literally tossed a warning sheet at me and told me to please go home. The second time I had gotten pulled over it was for something so silly, or so I thought. The cop arrives at the my door and says that I did an improper lane change. That was odd, because I did not change lanes until after he was behind me and that was so I could pull over. This officer was not as fresh and new as the last and had pulled me over with a chip on his shoulder. He asked me to step out of my car while he looked over my license and insurance. He kept questioning me on “Why my tag was from Mauk, and my license said Valdosta?” I tried to explain to him through all my hysterical tears because I was not comfortable and once again my PTSD had struck. He insisted that one of them were fake or that I had stolen my car. I tried to explain that everything at the time was in my parents name because of my kidnapping. He joked and said I have never heard of you, are you sure you were kidnapped or is that just another lie. After becoming a little overly hysterical he went and researched my name and saw that I truly had been kidnapped. He quickly returned and sent me on my way. I tried to call my boyfriend at the time to help calm me down and even my mom, but it just seemed that I was being quite dramatic. I had even become to believe that I was just being dramatic and the cop was just doing his job. They did not know what my body was reacting to and neither did I at that time. I had become unstable to the point that I hid from any type of man in a deputy or officer uniform.

I knew that at work, dropping my head and ignoring my nervousness around just our security at work had to be something from my past experiences. That I truly could not be that afraid of them. I mentioned this to my counselor and she got to work. We started with EMDR to assist with exactly what was actually triggering me. [EMDR is Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) therapy is an integrative psychotherapy approach that has been extensively researched and proven effective for the treatment of trauma. EMDR therapy includes a set of standardized protocols that incorporate elements from many different treatment approaches.]  It was clearly the uniforms on a man; all because of the events that happened the day when my body, brain, and mind was completely vulnerable. We went through many steps and I was able to retrain my brain to not be in fear of them anymore. I learned that not all cops are bad cops and not all officers in that color uniform thought I was a joke like some have in the past. They were not all out to get me, and some truly were out to help people and victims. It took a lot for me to make a point to speak to an officer each day at my job. Clearly they were ones that I knew would never harm me but I had to start somewhere. I am now able to face any man in a uniform of that sort without becoming nervous. I have even become friends with some officers and cops.

I wrote this post today, over 6 months since I wrote the previous part of my kidnapping story to show that this is a never-ending cycle. That even when I think I am all healed from the event, another part will peek around the corner and show its evil face. I still have PTSD, I will always have PTSD, but I am knocking my triggers out one day at a time.