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At the mercy of Daddy

I thought my abbies were in the safest arms - but I was wrong...


Published by: Jai Breitnaur & Sharon Ward
Published on: 2nd February 2011

They say lightning never strikes twice and, as I flicked through the photo album of my beautiful twins Dezi and Dakota, I prayed they were right. I couldn’t go through that again…
I was 16 when I’d met John Winbun. He’d been the man of my dreams. While other teens wanted Hollywood stardom, or to go travelling, I’d spent my time furnishing an imaginary home and choosing names for our make-believe children.
Meeting John had given me the chance to do all those things for real – until, at 27 weeks, I’d gone into labour prematurely. Five days later, my twin boys had died in my arms. The photo album was all I had left of them.
And now I was pregnant again…and scared. Not because of what might happen to the babies – I’d successfully had kids since – but because of the father’s reaction.
The fact was, me and David Yates weren’t together any more.
We’d met in 2002, when I’d taken a job selling timeshares. He’d been my boss, and a real ladies’ man.
Not that I’d had time to notice. At the time, I’d been busy trying to hold my marriage together because I’d discovered John had been having an affair.
I’d been devastated, but determined to hold on to my family. We had two little boys – Connor, one, and Owen, two, along with our adopted daughter Betsy, 16.
David must have sensed my sadness. ‘You look tired,’ he’d said over my shoulder one afternoon.
‘Oh, kids, y’know…’ I’d smiled.
‘Why not tell me over lunch?’ he’d grinned.
He’d taken me to a little bistro, and I don’t know if it was the wine, the warmth of his smile, or the relief someone was interested, but I’d poured my heart out to him.
By the time I was done, I’d been in David’s arms sobbing while he’d dabbed my face with a tissue. ‘You should have told me before,’ he’d sighed. ‘I’ll do what I can.’
From then on, if I’d needed a long lunch, or to get off work early, David hadn’t batted an eyelid. He was always there to listen, make me smile, tell me
I was beautiful… and, a year later, when me and John had finally called it a day, it was David’s arms I’d fallen into.
And, for the next 10 months, I’d felt like the luckiest woman alive… ‘What a lovely evening,’ I’d smiled, as we snuggled on the sofa one night. The kids were with John, and I was staying at David’s. But, flicking through the telly, he’d started getting grumpy.
‘More than 500 channels and nothing on,’ he’d snapped, slamming down the remote.
‘Er, I think I’ll go to bed,’ I’d mumbled. But as I’d turned to go up the stairs…
‘Ow!’ I’d yelled, feeling something hard hit my arm, burning me. Turning, I’d seen David standing on the other side of the room ashen-faced. On the floor was a smoking candle, and hot wax was splattered up my sleeve. ‘D-did you throw that at me?’ I’d gasped.
‘Susan, I’m sorry,’ he’d started, but I’d told him to sleep on the sofa, we’d talk about it in the morning.
Next morning, I’d come downstairs to tea and freshly- buttered toast. ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ he’d said. ‘I promise it won’t happen again.’
And I’d believed him. But it had happened again. And again…
Sometimes he’d shout at me, other times he’d slap or push me. Once, he’d punched me. Every time he was drunk, and each morning after he’d promise he’d get help, he’d tell me he loved me.
But I wasn’t a mug.
‘I’m leaving you,’ I’d told him after four years together.
‘I love you Susan, but you’re right, I’m not good for you,’ he’d agreed.
At work, we’d been civil, and I was relieved it was over… until I’d felt that familiar sickness….
So, here I was trying to pluck up the courage to tell him I was pregnant. Closing the album, I headed out of the door to work.
That afternoon, when the office was empty, I saw my chance.
But I could never have expected his reaction…
‘That’s great!’ he beamed. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a dad!’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t expect anything from…’ I started.
‘Susan, I’ve changed,’ he said, taking hold of my hand. ‘For the sake of the baby, let’s give things another chance.’
I’d already got one set of kids seeing their dad part-time, maybe I could stop it happening to this baby. Maybe the responsibility of becoming a father would make David stop drinking, get himself sorted. ‘Okay,’ I nodded. ‘Let’s give it one more go.’
‘You won’t regret this,’ he said.
Over the next few weeks, he was perfect, cooking me dinner, looking after the boys when I was sick, and telling me how beautiful I was. And, when we found out I was expecting twins at my 20-week scan, David punched the air.
‘Fantastic!’ he smiled. I was sure I saw a tear in his eye.
It had to be a sign. Finally, I was getting the twins that I’d always longed for.
A week later, though, David was staying at my place and we went upstairs to bed, only to find Owen asleep on a blanket in my room. ‘Bless,’ I smiled. ‘He sometimes creeps in and does this. I can’t bear to move him.’
‘I can!’ David snapped, leaning over my shoulder.
‘Get out!’ he hollered in Owen’s ear. Wide-eyed, he sat bolt upright and started crying.
‘Good one,’ I snapped, bending down to cuddle him.
But before I got to him, David grabbed him and pushed him out of the bedroom door.
Then he turned on me.
‘Just who do you think you are?’ he yelled, and punched me in the head.
‘Stop! The babies!’ I cried, clutching my stomach, but the blows continued to rain down on me until I collapsed into a heap on to the floor, weeping.
‘Oh no, Susan…’ David whispered suddenly.
He looked shocked, like he’d suddenly woken up from a dream.
Grabbing my car keys, and pulling the boys out
of bed, I drove straight to the police.
There was no way I was risking losing these twins, too. David didn’t try to stop me.
He was charged with assault, and sent to prison for four months.
Without David, I’d like to say the rest of my pregnancy was a dream.
But then he started writing to me from prison.
I love you, I miss you, I’ll never hurt you again… he wrote.
And part of me felt sorry for him.
He clearly had anger issues, but surely he could get them sorted with help – why should that stop him having contact with his kids?
If you want to be there for the children, you can come to their birth, I wrote back.
His release date was just before my Caesarean section was planned. And he did turn up to support me.
‘I know I’ve done wrong, but I promise I’ll look after you,’ he told me, as I was wheeled into theatre.
True to his word, he stayed with me for the delivery and, when Tyler and Savannah were born, he eagerly took them in his arms.
‘Beautiful,’ he smiled. ‘Just like their mum.’
I was just relieved they were okay.
Back home, David showered me and the twins with gifts, was always on the phone asking if
we needed anything.
Although I wasn’t prepared to let David back into my life, I was willing for him to see the twins. Fair’s fair – being a bad boyfriend doesn’t make you a bad dad.
So, I started letting him have them for the weekend.
‘Now they need a feed every three hours, and there are spare nappies in the bag…’ I said tearfully the first time I dropped them off.
‘Susan, I’m not an idiot,’ David smiled, as he showed me the little room he’d set up for them.
They’d got
their own Moses baskets and matching outfits. ‘I’m looking forward to this,’ he said.
‘They’re only four weeks old – be careful,’ I warned.
All weekend I resisted the urge to
call him, check they were okay.
And when I picked them up on Sunday, David handed me two happy, healthy babies. ‘I can’t wait for next week,’ he smiled.
Perhaps being in prison had done him good.
The following Friday, I dropped Tyler and Savannah at David’s.
Tucking them into their Moses baskets, I gave them each a kiss
on the cheek.
‘Goodbye my darlings,’ I smiled, listening to their snores. ‘Mummy loves you.’
Back at home, I was just getting ready for bed myself when David phoned me.
‘Tyler just smiled at me!’ he cheered down the line. ‘He obviously knows I’m his dad.’
‘That’s his first smile,’ I laughed. ‘Although they say
babies recognise their mums before their dads.’
David went quiet. ‘Do you believe that?’ he growled.
‘Oh come on, it’s just something I read…’
‘You think they love you more?!’ he shouted.
I wasn’t going to get into a row, though, so I hung up.
But all night I got calls and text messages until, in the end, I turned off my phone.
The next day, I called David at lunchtime to see
how the twins were, but he didn’t answer his phone.
He was probably still angry with me.
‘I’m coming to get the babies,’
I said into his answer machine at 3pm that afternoon.
But when I went round to his house, there was no answer.
Worried, I called the police.
A young officer arrived within minutes, and shouted through the letterbox. ‘Seems like no one’s in, but the patio door’s open,’ he told me. ‘I’ll check it out.’
I followed him into the darkness of the living room, heard a groan from the corner.
‘Mr Yates?’ called the officer as David sat up, clutching his head.
He’d obviously got drunk, passed out!
‘Where are the babies?!’ I cried.
‘At Dan’s…’ he slurred, kicking over an empty
bottle of vodka.
‘Dan… Dan who? Where are they? Where are they?!’ I screamed, but the officer was pushing me outside.
Next thing I knew, David had been arrested and the policeman had gone inside to look around.
Moments later, he came out of the house.
‘I, umm, I don’t know how to tell you this,’ he started to say. ‘But your twins are dead.’
I looked at him, confused. ‘Dezi and Dakota? I know, that happened years ago!’
I didn’t have time for games. ‘Where are Tyler and Savannah?’ I demanded.
The policeman put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye. ‘Susan,’ he said slowly. ‘I’ve just found Savannah and Tyler… and they’re not breathing.’
I stared at him, felt strangely like I was floating away.
I couldn’t think, and someone was screaming uncontrollably, screaming hysterically. Then I realised… It was me.
‘N-no!’ I panted, clutching at the officer, as I collapsed to the ground and blacked out.
Next thing I knew, I was in hospital, Betsy, Owen and Connor at my side.
‘Where are the twins, Mummy?’ Connor asked, sadly.
Choking back tears, I held my boys’ hands.
‘David didn’t know how to take care of babies,’ I whispered. ‘Something happened, and
they’ve gone to heaven.’
‘With Dezi and Dakota?’ Owen asked. My heart broke, he was only five.
Later, the police came to see me.
‘What happened?’ I asked, as they sat down.
I knew that it was going to be tough to hear, but the full horror of what David did was beyond my wildest imagination.
Angry after our row, and frustrated I wouldn’t answer his calls, David drank several
bottles of vodka and overdosed on prescription drugs.
Then, when the twins woke up for their feed, he turned on them.
A post-mortem showed that Tyler’s injuries were like he’d been put in a vice, with every rib broken and his little heart nearly burst out of his chest.
Savannah had been shaken and beaten, her head hit repeatedly against something solid like a table or door.
‘I found them under the bed,’ said the officer who’d met me at David’s house.
Under the strain of the memory, his voice cracked.
‘They were laying on top of each other in a pool of blood, thrown there like ragdolls.’
David’s crazy jealousy that the twins might love me more than him had led him to murder.
He was arrested and charged.
Of course I went to court – I wanted to see him plead guilty to murder, but there were more surprises in store.
‘Not only is David pleading not guilty, his defence are going to claim that you killed them,’ the police told me.
‘What?!’ I cried.
For the second time in my life I’d lost a set of precious twins, and now this evil monster was pretending I was responsible?
Thankfully, no one believed him – but there was more.
New evidence emerged which showed that while I was pregnant with the twins, while we were still together, David had tried to hire a hitman to kill me.
All those smiles and promises – and all the time he wanted the three of us dead.
In October last year, he was found guilty on two counts of intentional murder, and given two consecutive life sentences without the chance of parole.
Now I still can’t sleep at night, frightened that I’ll hear a creak
on the stair, or feel a gun against my head.
So, instead, I sit on the sofa
with my two photo albums – two sets of twins who went to heaven too soon. And think of the Daddy who can go to hell.
Susan Bird-Winbun, 30, Wisconsin, USA