There is one “Karen” experience I had that will always stand out among the several I have had over the years. When I was 20 my husband, our daughter and I rented the house I grew up in from my stepfather. I had lived in that house since I was 11, all of our close neighbors knew and thought of me as part of their family. We were very close. At this time I was in the army and my husband was in the oilfield (still is 15 years later). I had just gotten off, had changed into civilian clothes and picked up my daughter from my mom. I was tired after spending a hot day in the back of 18 wheelers unloading/ loading shipments.
I thought it over later that evening, and made a decision that still haunts me and will the rest of my life. I decided not to report them to child services. Not that it would’ve made a difference. They had child services called on them by somebody, or some people, FOUR times in the four years they had been parents. There was never anything done. In fact, one of those times the case worker came to their house, and my BIL told them straight up, you can’t come into my house. The case worker left and that was the end of that particular case.
About two months after we had gone to their house, we get a call from my BIL. The two year old was in the emergency room, supposedly because he had fallen out of his bed. We went to the hospital, and this poor baby’s head was swollen to twice its normal size. Before I continue I want to say, he recovered, that time. Nobody believed, including the doctor, that he had just fallen out of bed. An investigation was started and then their story changed. They started saying that a friend of theirs had watched the kids a few nights before, and although it took three days for his head to start swelling, the injury took place then.
Sounds unbelievable right? It gets crazier! Based off of their crazy story, the friend was investigated and was actually put on trial for it. Based off of all the people that testified to the court about the parents history of horrible parenting, they ended up dropping the case against the friend. Even my BIL’s own parents testified to their bad parenting. After the case was dismissed, they dropped the matter completely instead of looking at the parents again. Through what I knew, had seen, and some of what I was told by my BIL, I think I know exactly what happened. They had them children locked in their room, and the oldest unintentionally and with a little aluminum baseball bat that was in their room, hit the youngest in the head.
Fast forward five months, July 4,2009. Me and my ex were at my sister’s house celebrating the fourth of July. My ex gets a call. The boys mom had fallen asleep inside while her kids played outside. They got into the pool in their front yard. The youngest had drowned and was rushed to the hospital. He didn’t make it that time. I think about it everyday of my life. I try to rationalize my decision not to call child services that day by telling myself others called and it didn’t help, so Me calling wouldn’t have helped anyway. The truth is that I fucked up! I should’ve called anyway and I’ll live with that the rest of my life. I’ll have a life though, which is more then that baby got and I hate myself for that. R.I.P Kaleb.
When I was nearly home I saw a small dog running down the busy highway and decided to save it from being hit. I called it over to my truck where he jumped right in. I then pulled forward into an area that was safe so I could call the vets office that was on the rabies tag. The dog jumped on my 18 month old daughter scratching her face pretty bad, so I opened the door to place him into the back while I got contact information for his owners. He bolted. Just as a car pulled up behind me. As I was trying to catch this dog again the lady driving the car jumps out and begins screaming that I was dumping the dog. I pointed out that it had a collar with tags. That didn’t matter. She was adamant that I was dumping the dog and she was going to make me regret that mistake.