For 18 months, Marah lived in a war zone.
She was cut off from family and friends. She never knew when the next attack would come.
Marah's "war zone" was in Armstrong County, and the battlefield was her own home.
Marah is not her real name, but her story, like many others, is true. Marah endured what she could describe only as a living hell during the 18 months of her marriage to "Bud."
"We went to school together in the 1980s," Marah said. "Bud was tall, well built, rather handsome. Although he was a rather imposing figure physically, he didn't play any sports. Most of his friends were from what you might call the rowdy crowd. Bud took a liking to me during our last few years of school, and I have to admit, I found him, you might say, interesting.
"I later found out that Bud often told his friends that he was going to marry me. That was before he ever asked me or before I considered him anything more than a school friend. I was told later that he often referred to me as 'that,' saying things like 'That's mine,' or 'I'm going to marry that.'"
Marah said that she dated Bud for a while after graduating from high school and realized that the relationship was getting serious.
"Bud never really asked me to marry him; he just told me that we were going to be married. At first I was confused and agreed, but later I began having serious doubts. An inner voice told me this relationship was all wrong and it had been wrong from the beginning. I was afraid of Bud, afraid of his reaction if I told him that I didn't want to marry him. Somehow, I got the courage up to do so. His reaction wasn't quite what I expected. I knew he would be angry and probably yell and argue a lot. He did that and more. In no uncertain terms, Bud told me that if I didn't marry him, he would kill me and he would kill my family. This was the most serious threat he had made to date, but somehow, I knew he meant what he said."
Marah agreed to go through with the marriage, saying she feared her family would be in danger if she didn't. She began to entertain hopes that somehow Bud would change. She thought she could be a positive influence on him.
"Bud came from a dysfunctional family, to say the least. But he had a good job and made good money. He was hardworking, and on the surface, it seemed we had an ideal marriage." Marah said. "But from the outset of our life together, the abuse began. I couldn't go anywhere by myself. I wasn't allowed to visit my parents or any of my sisters. If I did and he found out, he would rage at me for hours. I had no control over the finances. Also, most everything that was purchased was for him, or what he wanted. Nothing was bought for the home without his approval. He decided everything.
"My only time outside the home was when I went to work, but he would call me periodically to check up on me to be sure I was there. I wasn't allowed to go shopping by myself. He always went with me and had to approve every purchase, even purchases of bread and milk or personal items."
About a month into their marriage, Marah said the abuse turned physical. She said Bud began hitting her for any infraction of "his rules," real or imagined.
"He would always hit me where it didn't show," she said. "He would punch my back or kick me in the ribs or on my legs. He would often grab me by my hair and throw me to the floor. One time when I tried to call for help, he ripped the phone out of the wall and struck me with it on top of my head. I tried to get out the door thinking I would go to the neighbors' for help. But Bud ripped off all my clothes so I couldn't go outside. Then he raped me. The rape was his way of 'making things up to me.' The beatings and forced sex became almost a way of life. After each beating, he would send me flowers at work with a note telling me he loved me. When I came home from work, he would apologize to me and tell me how much he loved me and that it wouldn't happen again. But it did, of course, and the beatings became almost a weekly affair."
Marah's mother and sisters began to suspect that she was a victim of domestic violence and urged her to leave Bud. However, Marah said that her fear of leaving and the consequences that were sure to follow were too great to convince her to leave. Although the police had been called to her residence on numerous occasions, no charges were ever brought against Bud.
"Things were different then," Marah said. "While some officers were sympathetic, for the most part they said since I didn't offer any proof of physical abuse, our problems were a private matter. They said it boiled down to a matter of 'He said, she said.' In other words, it was my word against his. So I felt trapped into staying with Bud."
A common story
Jo Ellen Bowman, director of HAVIN, a Kittanning-based shelter for victims of domestic violence, said it is not unusual for domestic violence victims to choose to stay in abusive relationships.
"Quite often women fear that the violence in a relationship may escalate if they attempt to leave," Bowman said. "Sometimes this is the case, and at HAVIN we counsel victims as to the best course of action to take in certain situations. Every situation is different, and we take that into consideration. There is also fear of the unknown. Many victims face an uncertain future; they don't know who to turn to or where to go. Also, as in Marah's case, many victim's feel that if they stay in the relationship, they would be the only ones in danger and their families would be safe. Some women may also feel guilty for breaking up a relationship. They feel that it is their responsibility to keep the family together."
Marah said that although she had wanted to end her marriage, she never had the courage to do so until she saw a movie, "The Burning Bed."
"My sisters urged me to not watch this movie," she said. "They felt it would be too traumatic for me. But I did watch it, and while I had no intention of taking drastic action as was portrayed in the movie, I was impressed with the victim's courage to endure and eventually overcome her plight, and end the relationship. I knew I had to take action before I ended up dead. I felt that either Bud would end up killing me or I would commit suicide. After the police told me I needed 'proof,' I came up with a plan of action of my own."
Marah said she began keeping a diary of each incident, detailing what was said and done. She kept the diary hidden. She also hid several items of clothing that became stained with her blood after a beating. After she felt she had accumulated sufficient evidence, she contacted state police and consequently was put in touch with the Armstrong County District Attorney, who at that time was George Kepple.
"A particular state police officer and Mr. Kepple were just wonderful," she said. "They were very sympathetic to my plight and offered me good, sound advice. I left our home and returned to live with my parents. I was granted a protection-from-abuse order. Bud was ordered by the court to stay away from me and from my parents' home."
Not over yet
However, Marah discovered that leaving Bud and obtaining a protection-from-abuse order against him was not the end of her living nightmare, only the beginning. Bowman said that while many domestic abusers are kept at bay by a PFA order, such legal action only further enrages some and spurs them to further violence. This proved true in Marah's case.
"Bud left the area for a while, but after several years he returned and the nightmare began all over again," she said.
Marah said Bud began calling her parents' home incessantly. He was often seen driving up and down the road on which they lived, sometimes parking his vehicle nearby. Marah was driven to work by her father or other family members, and Bud would frequently follow them.
"One night, we heard loud gunshots outside the house. We called the police, but they just couldn't pin anything on him at that time," she said.
A deluge of phone calls, being followed to and from work, and the gunshot incident, however, were not the end of Marah's ordeal.
"After the shooting, Bud seemed to back off for a while. Perhaps the police investigation had scared him off," she said. "One day I had to drive to work by myself. Suddenly a pickup truck appeared out of nowhere and forced my car off the road. Bud was driving the truck. I was petrified with fear. He had a handgun and dragged me out of my car and forced me into his truck. We drove around for a while, and all the time he said he was going to kill me and kill my family. He wanted me to 'forget' everything that had happened in the past and said he wanted me to go back to live with him. The ordeal lasted several hours; we went though several counties. Finally, the police located us and Bud released me. After a long court trial he was sentenced to jail, but served only a year."
Marah's ordeal finally ended when, after being released from jail, Bud died of an illness. It was only his untimely death that brought an end to her battle.
Today, Marah is remarried to a man she describes as warm, wonderful and understanding. They have several children and Marah said that at last, she has found true happiness and fulfillment.
"I'm one of the lucky ones," she said. "I'm very grateful to God and to my family. Considering the extreme to which Bud took things, I really expected that he would someday kill me. There were times I contemplated suicide. But somehow I decided to fight back. I became determined to become a survivor rather than a victim. The reason I'm telling this story is that I want others to know that if they are in a similar situation, there is hope. Never give up. Seek help from every possible avenue. Today, laws and attitudes toward domestic violence victims have changed for the better. Police are better trained to understand and deal with such situations.
"If you are a victim of domestic violence or a stalking victim, you have a lot of resources on your side that I didn't have," Marah said. "All I can say is, don't be a victim, don't give up. Be a survivor. It takes courage, but there are people and agencies that are prepared and willing to help. Most of all, realize that God is on your side. He was on mine."
