Denver, Colorado

June 17, 2007

My husband was a soldier. We don’t have any children, and I work at the local library.  Since returning from Iraq, Steve has never really been the same. He had been on two tours before finally coming home. His last tour was really tough. One of his friends had been killed by an IED. Steve took that really hard. I’m at the library daily cataloguing books while Steve is at home. He’s been having nightmares since he came back. He’d wake up in the night screaming and fighting the blankets. The weekend before it happened had been awful. He barely slept at all. On Monday morning, I got up and went to work. I had on black pants and a navy blue blouse. At the end of the day, I locked up the library and drove home. I stopped at the Safeway on E31 Ave and bought some pork chops and milk. After that, I drove to our house on Leyden St. I got home and parked the car in the driveway. Steve’s car was also in the driveway. 

I exited the car, grabbed my purse and got the groceries out of the backseat.  I fumbled with my keys a bit and walked to the front door. I opened the door and went inside. I called out to Steve, but he didn’t answer. So I went to the kitchen to put the groceries away. As I put the bag on the counter, I felt a sharp pain on the back of my head. I fell forward and knocked the bag onto the floor, and that’s when the milk container broke open. I grabbed my head and tried to turn around. As I turned, I saw Steve holding a gun at me. I saw him move to hit me with the butt of the gun. 

When I woke up, it was dark. I couldn’t see but could hear Steve, so I tried to stand up. I couldn’t because my hands and feet were bound. My eyes started to adjust to the light, and I could see my husband curled up in the corner of the bedroom. The curtains were closed.  I tried to call out to him. He had put a sock or something in my mouth.  He heard me, stood up and walked over to me. He started babbling something about IEDs and someone named Johnson. He seemed very angry, pacing and waving the gun around.  

Then, all of a sudden, he got quiet. He walked over to me, sat down and grabbed hold of me. He started crying, and I still could not speak because of the gag. I tried to get my hands free, but I couldn’t. Steve stopped crying and started yelling again because I was trying to get free. He got up and hit me again, this time in the face, with his hand. He was in a rage, throwing things around the room, breaking stuff, and punching the wall. 

I noticed the gun on the floor. I don’t know when he put it down, but he did. I tried talking to him, but I could only make sounds. I just kept looking at him in the dark room, pacing around. I saw him go for the gun. I heard the shot, and then he fell to the ground. 

Sincerely,

Jessica Mason