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Boyfriend from hell

But how could I save my girl before it was too late?


Published by: Fiona Ford & Sharon Ward
Published on: 21st April 2011

The point of being an expert is that you have all the answers, right? A plumber stops his home flooding, a doctor cures a sick member of his family, a police officer spots a wrong ‘un.
But what if you’re one of the experts, and when something happens in your own family you’re as lost as everyone else?
I thought I’d done all I could to prepare my daughter Heather for the big, bad world.
As a civilian working full-time with the police forensic department I’d seen the gritty side of life, and I made sure I’d shared it with Heather as she grew up.
‘Don’t let anyone push you around,’ I’d always insisted.
‘Yes, Mum,’ she’d smile, rolling her eyes.
I’d thought my advice had sunk in. Heather had been a sensible teenager, with no end of mates.
What’s more, she’d told me everything. Some of my friends were jealous of our closeness. ‘I wish my kids would open up to me like Heather does with you,’ pals had sighed.
But here she was, curled up on the sofa, crying in pain. I knew it had something to do with her boyfriend, Joshua Bean.
All the warnings in the world hadn’t stopped my girl falling for a bad boy.
And even though I worked with the police, and was supposedly an expert who’d seen women in abusive relationships no end of times, I didn’t know what to do now my daughter was in trouble. I couldn’t stop her from hurting.
‘Heather, what’s wrong?’ I gasped, rushing to her side.
‘It-it hurts, Mum,’ she sobbed. Then her body convulsed and she was sick. She couldn’t stop.
‘What the hell has Joshua done to you this time?’ I didn’t wait for an answer, but just bundled Heather, 20, into the car and rushed her to hospital.
Doctors pulled up her top to examine her belly. Good God! It was black, purple and red all over. My knees almost went from under me as I realised the beating she’d taken.
‘You have to press charges against the person who did this,’ said a doctor sternly. ‘You have severe concussion too. Next time you might not survive an attack like this.’
Heather bit her bottom lip. I could see the battle going on inside her as she tried to decide what to do. Ever the softie, she was convinced that with enough love she could change Joshua.
Rubbish! People like that don’t change. But then I’d being tell her that for more than a year, ever since he’d first hit her…
Me and Joshua had hated each other on sight when I’d spotted him with Heather, then 18, at a party.
When I’d told her to come home with me, she’d hadn’t argued. But Joshua, 19, had. ‘Get lost,’ he’d spat, squaring up to me. ‘You can’t tell her what to do.’
‘I can because I’m her mother,’ I’d snarled back. Even then, I’d seen something evil flash in his eyes. But I hadn’t given him a second thought until six months later, when Heather had admitted she was dating him.
He was the one thing my sensible girl wasn’t sensible about. She loved Joshua with all her heart and soul.
The first time he’d hit her had been a few weeks before she’d started university to study psychology. She’d called me in tears, begging me to collect her from Joshua’s.
Heather had been waiting for me outside, sobbing her eyes out. Her neck was bright red from where he’d hit her, and her face was covered in slap marks.
‘Joshua tried to choke me in the garage,’ she’d wept. ‘Then he beat me to the floor!’
Furious, I’d started to march into his house. ‘He’s not there,’ she’d insisted. ‘If you say anything to him, you’ll just make it worse.’
Holding her in my arms, it had taken every ounce of self-control not to find that lad and give him a piece of my mind.
But, instead, I’d concentrated on being there for Heather. She agreed not to see him again, but within weeks he’d wormed his way back into her life.
Of course, I’d tried to talk sense into her. I’d sat her down, told her all the terrible things I’d seen in my work at the police forensic department. All those cases where poor women had been beaten to a pulp, killed even, by violent men.
‘I’d never let that happen to me,’ she’d insisted. ‘Joshua’s so sorry. He loves me. He’s learned his lesson.’
So I’d been as helpless at getting through to her as the next person, despite all my expert knowledge.
Could I get through to her now?
Looking at Heather, her face as pale as the sheets on the hospital bed, her belly a rainbow of bruises, I knew Joshua hadn’t learned his lesson at all.
The doctor glared at her seriously. ‘You have to report this man,’ he repeated.
I took Heather’s hand and gazed into her eyes. ‘I can’t make you do this,’ I whispered. ‘But please… I beg you.’
Was that a nod I saw? Yes! It started tiny, but got bigger and more determined.
‘He’s gone too far this time,’ she mumbled.
I was so proud of her. Finally, Joshua was going to get what he deserved. The trouble was, the courts said there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him, and he was acquitted.
Me and Heather’s dad Ed were furious. Although we’d split up before Heather was born, we’d always stood shoulder to shoulder as parents.
‘Why can’t they see what a monster Joshua is?’ Ed raged.
‘At least he and Heather are over now,’ I agreed.
We helped our daughter move forward, encouraging her to go out with her friends. Slowly, the old Heather re-emerged.
‘I can’t believe I ever went out with a monster like Joshua,’ she said one night, biting into a slice
of pepperoni pizza.
‘Well, your next fella will be wonderful,’ I smiled.
Five months after the attack, Heather seemed stronger than ever. Just lately she was always out, sometimes she’d stay at friends’ houses for days.
She always remembered to text me, though. See you soon, she wrote. Love you.
But as I looked at my phone, I realised that last message had arrived two days before. I hadn’t heard a peep from her since.
I called Heather’s mobile. It was switched off. Worried, me and Ed rang all her friends, but they hadn’t seen or heard from her.
Fear gripped my heart. What if she was with Joshua?
Ed went to Joshua’s house, but there was no one in. ‘I think we should call the police,’ he told me. I nodded, panic rising.
A massive search was launched. Officers also checked the internet, including Heather’s MySpace account, for recent activity. They read her last message out to me.
I can’t take this drama any more. I need to get out of this state!
‘My daughter didn’t write that,’ I insisted.
I knew it instinctively. She’d never just run away. ‘This is down to Joshua.’
I hoped they’d tell me I’d got it wrong, that I was overreacting. Instead, they nodded thoughtfully.
Then, 11 days after Heather had gone missing, her car was found abandoned in an Indianapolis hotel car park.
A red herring planted by Joshua?
Despite my fears, I tried to stay hopeful. It was almost impossible, though. I’d been involved in missing person cases so many times, and I knew that often they were dead.
For the next two days, me and Ed didn’t sleep or eat as we waited for news, hoping our girl would be found unharmed.
Then, one day, two officers knocked at my door. I’d worked with them no end of times and, as soon as I saw their faces, I knew what was coming.
‘We caught Joshua Bean trying to leave the country,’ one said gently. ‘I’m so sorry, Debbie, but he’s confessed to killing Heather.’
I just nodded. It was all I could do. I couldn’t say a word.
Heather had been sneakily seeing Joshua for a few weeks. So that was why she’d always been out.
The details of the horror were things that no parent should have to hear. We were told he just flipped one day, stabbing her over and over in the basement at his home. Then he’d stuffed her body in a bin and tried to burn it.
When that hadn’t worked he’d cut her into little bits using a chainsaw, and put the parts in bin bags.
Finally, he’d hired a truck and dumped the bags in bins all over the city.
My poor helpless baby. I shut down. The pain was too much.
Because of my job, I knew exactly what my daughter would have looked like, and the pain she would have felt.
The images were too horrifying, too real. I couldn’t cope. Weeks passed, and I couldn’t function.
People talk about a blur of grief – I’d have welcomed that. Instead each day seemed to last forever, the inescapable pain burning into me.
Joshua had done such a good job of scattering Heather’s body that the police couldn’t find any part of her.
So, instead of a funeral, 800 people attended a memorial service because there wasn’t so much as a scrap of my little girl for us to bury.
Sometimes, it felt like the only proof we had that she’d ever lived were the photos of her – and the aching hole in our hearts.
‘If only Joshua had been sent down when he first attacked Heather,’ said Ed, clenching his fists. ‘Our girl might still be alive, and Joshua might have changed his ways.’
‘Justice will be done this time,’ I said.
I hoped.
Joshua had been so calculating. During the trial at Marion Superior Court we heard how efficient he’d been in disposing of Heather’s body. Then he’d cunningly driven her car from his house and abandoned it, before hacking into her MySpace account and faking that message.
But there was more. He’d painted over Heather’s bloodstains in the basement, then he held a party to celebrate his birthday.
He’d partied while the paint dried where Heather had died.
This time, my girl got justice. Joshua was found guilty of murder and abuse of a corpse, and sentenced to 68 years in prison.
The scumbag didn’t even show any remorse when he was convicted – although he did have the gall to claim that he still loved Heather.
‘Love?! He doesn’t know the meaning of the word,’ I fumed. ‘My daughter showed him nothing but kindness and compassion, and he repaid her with violence.’
Over the following weeks and months, I sifted through Heather’s belongings, and kept thinking of how her life had been wasted. All she’d ever wanted was to help other people. Then it hit me – she still could!
If I shared her story with others, maybe it would stop the same thing happening to someone else.
I set up a website called Heather’s Voice, and aimed it at educating teenagers about dating and domestic violence. Next, I lobbied to change the law – I wanted schools to have to educate kids about domestic violence.
Heather’s Law was passed in the state of Indiana in April 2010.
I was beyond proud.
Now I spend my life visiting schools to tell the students what happened to my daughter. It’s about the only thing that keeps me going. If I’m not touring, I stay at home and look at her photos, crying.
Logic tells me that my girl is gone, but because no part of her has ever been found, there’s still a glimmer of hope inside me.
Maybe she’ll come home one day. Maybe Joshua made the whole murder thing up. It’s crazy, but I can’t help it.
My head knows the truth, though. Heather died in the most terrible way, at the hands of someone she loved.
But now I’m an expert in the heartbreak domestic violence can bring, maybe I can stop it happening to someone else – with help from my daughter Heather.
Debbie Norris, 54, Indianapolis, USA