The more this case goes on, the more it seems to be a pie of several sorts. You cut into one piece to find cherry, yet the next may be peach or even chocolate cream. How is that possible? She professes to have been sexually molested by her father and her brother, yet another part of her defense is that she is not capable of telling the truth. She purports Caylee drowned in the family pool, yet tape was found over the remains of what would have been the baby’s mouth? Why? Why tape over the mouth if she was already dead by drowning? In the event an effort was being made to keep a deep, dark hidden secret from being disclosed, that might partially explain why tape was found over the mouth. It’s just all so convoluted for this blonde to try and comprehend. I keep repeating, she is innocent until proven guilty, and quite frankly, as a mother of a daughter and having granddaughters, nothing would make me happier than to know beyond a reasonable doubt that Casey is innocent. I can’t imagine the state of mind Cindy must be dealing with.
But let’s get on to the topic I truly want to address here. A victim of sexual molestation is scarred for life. Wounds heal, but scars remain. I share that in my book, Orange Blossom Wishes. Victims of molestation go through life battling re-victimization. So, I’ll share my experience of being sexually molested by an extended family member and hope it makes some reasonable sense to you, the reader.
As a little girl, there were touches, smells, words and surroundings. Crazy as it may sound, I cannot to this day look at a 45rpm vinyl record without being taken back into that bedroom where he would lure me by offering to share his latest “top hit” song added to his collection. Rather than hearing a top hit, the hit was made on me, as he made his move and seemingly added me to his collection. Only thing is, I never found out until I wrote my book, when other female family members came forward to disclose they were his victims, as well, that there truly had been a collection of victims along with 45’s.
There was that musky smell of his body in the midst of his arousal. Far too many times when I was out on dates in my teens I’d begin to smell that same aroma coming from the skin of my date and freeze. I became identified as frigid. Nobody knew why. One night a guy tried to fondle my breast through my clothing, and I bit his hand so hard it broke the skin and caused severe bleeding. I suppose I fell into that fight or flight mentality. And he was the love of my life. Men with the same common name as my perpetrator? That would take me back, too. To hear his voice petrified me. And almost 20 years after the molestation had ended with him marrying and moving away, when I was convinced I was totally recovered, there he was at a family funeral, and there I was, frozen again, being transported back to the events that put the permanent scars in place, being hugged and slipping away into the “Secrecy at all cost” world.
I feel compelled to admit that a portion of the dysfunction in my first marriage, as long term as it was, was my responsibility. The only terms of sex I had known were that it was nasty, forced upon me, and I was a vessel meant for abuse, overpowering and control. So, when I married into an already abusive relationship, part of me was convinced my husband wanted sex to punish me for whatever it was I’d been punished by molestation all those years. Perhaps if there had been any tenderness or romance involved, rather than the whole “wham bam – thank you ma’am” scene, it might have been a bit different. But it is what it is. I just knew too much of it resembled those years of being sexually abused, misused and mistreated.
Now Casey Anthony is trying to convince at least a jury of her peers, if not the entire planet, that she should be exonerated from the accusations of murder because she was molested. Miss Anthony, I was molested. Millions of other mothers were molested as little girls—many of them by their fathers. Perhaps one or two have hidden their baby’s body and fabricated non-existent nannies and the like, while they partied away (I’ve seen the photos to be introduced soon. It ain’t pretty!). But, Miss Anthony, my guess is that 99.99% of all mothers who were sexually molested or assaulted when they were young are honest, capable, caring and nurturing parents. And I further guess if their baby came up missing, they’d be on it like a pit bull on a pork chop, trying to find their child—immediately, not one month later. So, once again I repeat myself: I personally consider this entire form of defense an insult and affront to the millions of survivors of sexual molestation.
I’m eager to hear the rationalization of this entire defense mechanism. Something tells me there is still a lot we don’t know, but are about to find out, and some may be quite disconcerting (Not that what we have heard so far isn’t).
And without equivocation, if this is the one time Casey can and does tell the truth, and she was actually sexually molested by her father and/or her brother, there should be some arrests made, sooner more than later.