Justine Ager
We continue Justine’s story from part one: Read it here.
The Fateful Night
On December 30th, I worked a double shift and joined a group of friends to watch the Bronco game. I came home much later than expected, and I knew he would be angry. Little did I know that as I turned the knob and walked through the door, he would soon alter my life forever.
As the door opened, Tim screamed:" where the F@$! were you." I replied, "I'm here to get the dog, and I am leaving." Otis, was hiding under the bed in fear. He grabbed my purse that I had around my neck and choked me with the strap, slamming my head into the kitchen countertop and fracturing my temporal lobe. Panic was racing through my veins: I knew I was in trouble. I ran toward the balcony, screaming for my life. He pulled me back, warning, "Don't do that again." And so began the fight of a lifetime. We argued in the apartment for hours as I pleaded and begged, no one came to help.
During the police investigation, a distraught neighbor confessed that she could hear my cry's for help but could not figure out where it was coming from.
The hours continued, as did the physical beating. I knew I had to get out if I was going to survive. I made one more run for the balcony. As I made it out the door, my last, desperate cry for help escaped my lips as I heard his rapid approach behind me declaring in my ear, "I told you not to do that again." I felt the cold bar of the small patio table press into my upper thighs as he choked me. As he pushed me into the balcony ledge, my left shoulder blade fractured. That was the last thing I remember. He chocked me until I became unconscious, and threw me head first off the balcony, three stories, 43 feet to the cold, concrete ground below.
My New Life
The doctors who saved me later told me that two things saved my life that night. First, as a teenager, I had a steel rod put in my spine due to severe scoliosis. Second, Tim knocked me unconscious before he tossed me over the ledge. The young woman who heard my earlier desperate cry saw me first. I landed right in front of her apartment. Another neighbor, an EMT, just happened to arrive home at the exact moment I landed. The neighbor helped me survive. As I lay there full of scratches, blood, broken and bruised, Tim made his way down to the sidewalk. He circled me, screaming, "Why me! Why me!" He tried to shake me, bruising my biceps. At the moment the ambulance finally arrived, I died. They resuscitated me and put me into an induced coma where I resided for two weeks.
During the ordeal, I contemplated calling the police three times. Each time, Tim warned me that it was at my peril, and I would lose my license. In the past I had a DUI issue that was about to be finalized. He warned me that a domestic violence charge would delay me finally getting my license reinstated. He had such power over me and was able to twist my every weakness into his advantage. In hindsight, one thing has nothing to do with the other, but at that moment, after years of mind games and abuse, I believed him.
As I lay in a coma, my family was by my side, waiting to see if I would survive. Tim came to the hospital to inform my family, "This is all your fault for never accepting me as part of your family." My brother sat at my bedside the entire time I was in a coma. Tim didn't expect that my family would never leave me alone. They surrounded me and protected me, much to his disappointment.
After two weeks, I woke up and began to heal. Overall I was at Denver Health Hospital for one month and Craig Rehabilitation for another two months. My recovery included starting over at the beginning learning how to walk, and get dressed on my own again. For the first few weeks, I never imagined that I sustained permanent damage. I assumed over time; my life would go back to normal. Unfortunately, that will never be the case.
COVID and Domestic Violence
During the COVID-19 pandemic most of us have experienced lock-downs and other social-distancing efforts in order to reduce the spread of the virus. Unfortunately the “safer at home” concept doesn’t apply to victims of domestic violence.
After the first month of stay-at-home orders, nine major metropolitan cities reported approximately between 20% and 30% increases in DV service calls (Tolan, 2020), with some regions as high as 62% (Northern Regional Police Department; Hartmann, 2020).
The Consequences
Tim moved on and left the state. He was never criminally charged. The police investigation showed that while he changed his story several times, we could not press charges. I passed out before he threw me over the balcony. There were no witnesses. Therefore, he walked away a free man. To this day, most domestic violence cases end this way. A man is rarely prosecuted for abuse.
I have worked hard on both my physical strength and my emotional well being. After the incident, I went to therapy for a long time and identified the behavior patterns that led me to believe that this kind of abuse was acceptable. To move on and use my experience to help others, I had to forgive him for what he did to me. I refuse to live as a victim. I survived, and now I will use my story to help other women in similar situations before it is too late.
I believe God spared my life because my work here on earth is not complete. I have more to do. I recognize that the path I was on that led me to this toxic relationship was not the end of my story. I'm now on the track to help others. Recently I have become a shaman and plan to work with others to identify and address negativity.
Overall I suffered 23 different injuries that night. Somehow, I recovered from most. Unfortunately, several remain with me forever. I am blind in one eye, suffer from chronic neuropathy in my legs and migraines, and can no longer work again. I endured intense rehabilitation and can live independently after spending two years at my mother's home.
For those I have met who ask “How could you stay? Why did you let this happen?” I recognize that they have never been in a toxic relationship. The relationship itself is paralyzing and mind altering.
My independence is critical to my success. It relieved my propensity toward depression, ignited my spirit, and I am stronger and more confident than ever before.
For any woman enduring a toxic relationship, I implore you to make a plan to leave before it is too late. Reach out to your support system, resources in your community, or at work or church. Tell someone today. By speaking the truth, you can begin to create a bold path toward change. Do it before it's too late.
“By speaking the truth, you can begin to create a bold path toward change. Do it before it’s too late. ”
National Domestic Violence Hotline
1-800-799-7233 (SAFE) or 1-800-787-3224 (TTY).
