SHOCKING TURN
One night during my Christmas break that year, Waldy and I were talking in her room. I was chewing gum loudly, so Waldy said, “Lauren stop that smacking.” But I didn’t. “Fine, I’ll do it for you,” she continued. “Go ahead,” I said, laughing. The next thing I knew, Waldy grabbed my head, stuck her lips onto mine, forced her tongue in my mouth—and then pulled out my gum with her tongue! What is she doing?! I wondered in shock. I’d never been kissed on the lips before, but it felt like she’d just kissed me. Why would she do that? I turned around and ran to my room. I felt so uncomfortable with what she’d just done. I wondered if I should tell my parents, but it was just so bizarre, I didn’t know what I’d say. So instead, I tried to forget about it.
The next day, the first moment we were alone, Waldy turned to me and gently said, “Lauren, I love you, and people who love each other kiss like that.” I felt like Waldy did love me—like my mom did—so I should believe her. I mean, why would she lie to me?
That night I helped Chase get ready for bed. Most nights Waldy and I curled up with him until he fell asleep, so as Chase drifted off, I wasn’t surprised to see her walk in. She lay down behind me—and slowly reached up my nightgown. What’s going on? I thought, panicking. Then she touched my breasts, and I got even more tense. I didn’t want to say anything and freak Chase out, so I just prayed that she’d stop. But then Waldy reached into my underwear and stuck her finger inside my vagina! Now I was terrified. I wanted to scream, but I was frozen.
After 15 minutes of Waldy silently touching me like that, she left the room. I lay there, shaking, until I worked up the nerve to confront her. “Why did you do that?!” I asked as I stormed into her room. “It’s good for you—you should know what to expect when you have a boyfriend,” Waldy calmly explained. What?! I thought. But then I hesitated: Maybe she was right. I mean, I had never had a boyfriend, and Waldy was an adult with experience, so maybe she should teach me about sex. I walked out and didn’t tell anyone. I figured now that I knew what to expect from boys, Waldy wouldn’t have to show me again.
TERRIFYING CYCLE
The next night, when my parents were still at work and Samantha and Chase were watching TV, Waldy asked me to come into her room. As soon as I did, she came up to me—and started to take off my clothes. “No!” I cried. Waldy picked up her brush and began beating me hard on the back of my neck, screaming, “Don’t you love me?!” she was scaring and hurting me, so I said yes, hoping she’d stop. She put the brush down, pushed me on the bed—and began performing oral sex on me. Suddenly my brain shut off, and my body went numb—I wasn’t even crying anymore.
After Waldy stopped and left me there, I wanted to tell my parents, but I was too ashamed: Since I hadn’t told them as soon as it all started, would they think I’d wanted Waldy to touch me? Would they think I was gay? What if Dad got really mad, attacked Waldy, and went to jail? I couldn’t risk all that—so I just kept quiet.
DEVASTATING TRUTH
Every day for the next four years, Waldy continued to forced me to have sex—she’d even make me shower in front of her. If I tried to fight back, she’d beat me. I tried to act happy at school and around my parents, so they wouldn’t suspect anything. But when I was 16, after four years of abuse, I stopped wanting to eat dinner with my family or to talk to them at all—I guess it got too hard for me to pretend. Mom began worrying and asked me to see a therapist. So I went: If I had an appointment, at least I could be away from Waldy.
Still I was so afraid of Waldy’s temper, I told my therapist that I was just under stress at school. But then three weeks later, Waldy came up to me in my room. “Lauren,” she said, “when you turn 18, I want to marry you.” I was so shocked, I just stared at her. “What, you don’t want to?!” she screamed—and then she grabbed my desk chair and threw it at me. That was when I realized I couldn’t live like this anymore: Waldy wanted to ruin my entire life! So I ran out and drove to my therapist’s office. “Waldy’s been forcing me to have sex with her,” I told him. He looked shocked. “I’m legally bound to tell your parents,” he said. I was still so scared of how they’d react, but I agreed—as long as I didn’t have to tell both of them at the same time and deal with their reactions all at once. My therapist called my dad, and he came in. “How did I not see this?” Dad asked, sobbing, as I told him my story.
After the session, my father drove me to a friend’s house—and went home to kick Waldy out. She was arrested, charged with sexual battery, and, after pleading guilty, sentenced to 15 years in jail. But I still couldn’t escape her: Waldy kept writing me letters from jail saying that she loved me.
In May 2004, my dad and I helped pass a law in Florida making it illegal for sexual abusers to contact their victims. It took months of legal work—and almost four years of therapy—to feel free of Waldy. But today, with Waldy in jail and now unable to contact me, I’m no longer living in fear. And I’ve even learned that I’m able to have a healthy, happy relationship. I’m currently dating a great guy, Kris—and we plan to get engaged soon!
She Killed
Her Mom
Nakisha, now 16, was desperate to get
away from her mother—but no one imagined
she’d take such drastic measure to do it.
On Friday, May 28, 2004, the school bus dropped off 14-year-old Stephanie Richardson in front of her house in Max Meadows, Virginia. Moments later, her friend Nakisha Waddell, then 14, came racing up the road in her family’s blue pickup. Nakisha stopped the truck near Stephanie and stepped out in a frenzy—she was covered in blood. “I did it,” Nakisha blurted out. “I killed my mom.”
FAMILY TIES
When Nakisha was just a few days old, her father, Tim, left her and her mother, Vaughne. So Nakisha’s mom began working three jobs to support her daughter. Then, when Nakisha was 4, her mother married Robert Thomas, a quiet man who worked at a Volvo plant and collected knives. Mr. Thomas’s steady job let Mrs. Thomas work less—and spend more time with her daughter. Soon Nakisha and her mom were going to church together almost every week.
“They were so close—more like sisters than anything else,” remembers Anna Wilder, Mrs. Thomas’s mother, who lived up the road. “We all used to go shopping together, and just sit around, watching TV and laughing.” Nakisha was a Girl Scout, and she acted very much like one—she volunteered to help her mom with chores, like grocery shopping, and whenever her grandmother needed something, she’d run right over to help. “Nakisha was also exceptionally intelligent,” says Mrs. Wilder. “She loved to read. I used to say, ‘Baby, how do you know all those big words?’ She’d reply, ‘I just know.’”
Nakisha began making lots of friends at church and school. In third grade she met Stephanie Richardson, who lived about a mile away. “Nakisha was quiet,” says Stephanie. “And she was nice to everybody.” But by the time Nakisha was 13, she was nearly six feet tall and heavy—and her classmates started to make fun of her. Slowly, Nakisha turned self-conscious and moody.
In eighth grade, Nakisha started hanging out with a classmate, Annie Belcher. According to Nakisha’s grandmother, Annie introduced Nakisha to drugs like alcohol and pot. As Nakisha spent more time with Annie and her friends, a rift began to form between her and her mom, who disapproved of her daughter’s new group. Mrs. Thomas suspected Nakisha was using drugs, but when she tried to talk to her daughter about it, Nakisha closed up. Nakisha also stopped wanting to go to church and started asking to spend time with her biological dad, who Mrs. Thomas thought would be another bad influence. The two started fighting constantly—and Nakisha grew even more distant and secretive. She turned to the Internet and got involved in an online romance with Victor, a sailor in his twenties from Virginia Beach. That was when Nakisha began to fantasize about how great her life could be— if only her mom were gone.
DEADLY THOUGHTS
On the evening of Monday, May 24, 2004, Nakisha told her mom that she wanted to go live with her dad. “Absolutely not,
” said Mrs. Thomas. “But I hate it here!” Nakisha yelled. “Your father left you!” Mrs. Thomas yelled back. “He never paid a penny of child support. Why would he want you now?” Nakisha was deeply hurt—she felt like she had to get away.
The next afternoon, while Nakisha and Stephanie rode the bus home from school together, Nakisha said matter-of-factly, “I want to kill my mom. Will you help me?” Stephanie just laughed—she assumed Nakisha was joking. “I’ve heard people say things like that,” Stephanie explains. “But they never actually mean it.”
The following day, Mrs. Thomas came home from work to find Nakisha talking to her dad on the telephone. Mrs. Thomas grabbed the receiver from her daughter and hung it up. “I hate you!” Nakisha screamed. Later she ran into her bedroom and slammed the door.
On Friday, May 28, Mrs. Thomas left for an early shift at the furniture factory where she worked. Mr. Thomas was in Texas visiting his son, so Nakisha was home alone. She called Annie and asked if she wanted to ditch school. Then, at about 8 A.M., Nakisha got into her family’s pickup truck—though she didn’t have a driver’s license—and drove to get Annie.
COLD-BLOODED MURDER
Nakisha spent the morning packing with Annie and figured that after she did what she had to do, she’d go to Virginia Beach to crash with her online boyfriend, Victor, for a while. Around noon, Mrs. Thomas pulled up to the house. She walked inside and jumped when she saw the girls sitting at the kitchen table. “You scared me,” said Mrs. Thomas. “Why aren’t you in school?” Annie frightened of what was going to happen next, ran into Nakisha’s room. “I’m running away,” Nakisha said. “And you can’t stop me!”
“You’re ruining your life!” Mrs. Thomas yelled. “Why are you hanging around with this trash?!” Nakisha screamed back at her mom. “You don’t know anything!” Then she picked up a knife that was lying on the kitchen counter—and plunged it into her mother’s shoulder.
“What are you doing?!” Mrs. Thomas gasped as she ran out the back door and onto the porch. “You don’t know me or Dad!” screamed Nakisha, following her mom down the porch steps and into the backyard. “Your dad never wanted you!” Mrs. Thomas yelled, and raised her hands to try to defend herself as Nakisha came at her. But it didn’t work: Nakisha began stabbing her mom in the chest, neck, and throat. Blood poured out of Mrs. Thomas, splattering onto the grass and Nakisha—but nothing was going to stop her. Nakisha stabbed her mom 13 times before she fell facedown. Nakisha then knelt next to her bleeding mother and noticed that her chest was still moving—so she methodically stabbed her 30 more times in the back, until she was sure that her mother was dead.
FAILED COVER-UP
Annie came outside and saw Nakisha kneeling beside her mom’s body. “Oh, God, Annie,” said Nakisha, starting to cry. “What did I do? I don’t want to go to jail,” she said. “We have to hide the body,” Annie replied. “Go get some sheets, and we’ll cover her up.” Nakisha did what Annie said, but when she got back outside, she lost her nerve. “I can’t touch her,” said Nakisha, trembling at the gory sight of her dead mother—she couldn’t believe what she’d just done.
So Annie took over—she wrapped up Mrs. Thomas’s body and told Nakisha to grab her mom’s wrists. Then they dragged the body across the lawn to the back shed and covered it with garbage bags. But once they did that, the mound looked messy and totally out of place. “This isn’t going to work,” said Annie. “We need help.” So the girls drove over to Stephanie’s house. “We need help getting rid of her,” Nakisha pleaded with her friend. But Stephanie was terrified. “You’re crazy,” she replied. “Get out of here!” Then she ran inside.
Once back home, Nakisha stuffed her bloody clothes and knife into a plastic bag. “We should make it look like a burglary,” said Annie. So the girls ran through the house, pulling out drawers and knocking things off tables. Nakisha even went back outside and took the wedding ring off her mother’s finger.
By the time the sun came up the next day, the two girls were exhausted—but neither could sleep. They still didn’t know what to do with Mrs. Thomas’s body—and they were afraid someone would find it. “I think we should burn her,” Annie said. So the girls dragged the body out of the shed and about 45 feet into the woods. Nakisha got nail-polish remover and alcohol from the house, and they poured it over her mother. Then they lit matches and set them on the body—but the flame didn’t take. “We have to do something,” Nakisha said. “My stepdad will be home tomorrow!”
“We should just bury her,” Annie finally decided. So the girls went back to the shed for shovels, and after almost four hours of digging in the woods, slid Mrs. Thomas’s body into a shallow grave and covered it with firewood. Finally, around 2 P.M., Annie called her dad and asked if he could pick them up from Nakisha’s.
SUDDEN CONFESSION
The next evening, Mr. Thomas arrived home. His house was a complete mess, and his wife was nowhere to be found, so he immediately called the police. Stephanie heard the sirens from down the road and called over to Nakisha’s house to see what was going on.
“Who is this?” demanded the man who answered the phone. “I don’t know anything,” she said, and hung up. But realizing she might get in trouble if she didn’t tell them what she knew, Stephanie called back and told the man, a deputy sheriff, what happened—and that Nakisha was probably over at Annie’s house.
Within 30 minutes, two officers knocked on the door of Annie’s dad’s house. Confused, Annie’s dad took them back to her room, where the girls were—Nakisha was lying in Annie’s bed. The officers stared at the girls. “We know your mom is dead,” one of them said. “Where is she?” he asked. Annie was silent. “We buried her in the woods,” Nakisha suddenly said in a monotone voice. Then she pulled out a bag of bloody clothes. Immediately, the officers arrested both girls.
LIFELONG CONSEQUENCES
At their hearing, Nakisha plead guilty to murder in the first degree and Annie plead guilty to murder in the second degree. On June 16, 2005, both girls were sentenced. Currently, Nakisha is serving 35 years behind bars and Annie is serving 15 years. They are at a juvenile facility in Christiansburg, Virginia, but will be moved to an adult jail when they turn 18.
Mrs. Wilder, Nakisha’s grandmother, recently received a letter, written on pink Hello Kitty stationery, from Nakisha—it was the first contact she’d had with her since the murder. “I know what I did was wrong,” she wrote neatly. “But nobody knows what goes on behind closed doors. Sometimes it was so hard to get through the day. I hope you can forgive me, but I understand if you can’t,” said the letter. “I hate what she did,” Mrs. Wilder reflects wistfully. “But I still love her—I can’t help it.”
A Tragic
Night Out
Charles, 24, wanted so badly to impress
Justina, 19. But in one reckless moment, he cut
both of their lives devastatingly short.
Just after 4 P.M. on August 14, 2003, one of the biggest power outages in U.S. history brought the sweltering summer day to a complete standstill. Up and down the Northeast and southern Canada—and as far west as Michigan—computers stopped humming, lights went out, and a noisy world suddenly became eerily silent.
Some New Yorkers would say the dark night that followed was one of the scariest since September 11, 2001. But Charles Kramer, 24, of Staten Island, might have told you it was the most romantic. After all, as thousands took to the sidewalks, hanging out with neighbors they’d never met and wondering when the lights would come back on, Charles first laid eyes on Justina Perugini, 19, the lively, bright-eyed brunette who would consume his attention throughout the fall.
But unlike thousands of others who met during the blackout and vividly remember every weird moment of it, Charles and Justina are no longer here to tell their story—a tragic tale that began on the darkest of nights.
FATEFUL MEETING
Charles, a carpenter who renovated skyscrapers, got out of work as usual that day around 3 P.M. and was one of t
he lucky ones who beat the blackout home. But there was little to do when he got there—he couldn’t watch TV; it was too hot to shoot hoops with his young niece and nephew, as he often did. So as the sun went down, he joined two of his guy friends for a bike ride around Midland Beach, the Staten Island neighborhood where they had all grown up. As they pedaled aimlessly, they got to talking, and Charles, who’d been single for some time, asked his friends if they knew a girl he could meet.
It wasn’t that Charles had a problem getting dates. The Derek Jeter look-alike had had several serious girlfriends over the years. Lean, muscular, and tall at 6'1”, Charles loved to wear Armani dress shirts and pants, and he took a long time making sure his hair looked just right. But he was also shy and grateful for a setup. His friend Mike, 16, immediately suggested someone he might like: Justina, who lived in nearby Dongan Hills. She was the cousin of his ex-girlfriend Amanda.
Justina was known for her hip, J.Lo-ish style—she lived in cute Nautica sweat suits and big, flashy jewelry. She was easily one of the most fun girls to be around, says her friend Desiree, 20. “She had the long nails, the cigarette in her hand, and the cup of coffee,” Desiree remembers. “She was always making a joke or telling you some outrageous story.” A tireless storyteller, Justina would hold court on the front steps of her family’s two-story home, entertaining her friends with gossip about who was dating whom or cracking them up with wicked one-liners about teachers at school. “She was the show,” says her friend Gabriel, 18.
So it was no surprise that on a night with very little else to entertain them, the trio of guys headed to the Perugini house, where they found Justina and a friend of hers hanging out on the stoop. The group sat on the steps late into the night, chatting and laughing (Justina could do hilarious imitations).
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