Conquering Darkness Memoir of the Serial Killer's Wife

by Crystal Reshawn Choyce-Lige

  After the show, we went to this little Chinese restaurant bordering Oakland and Berkeley. William said his family had patronized the place for years. It was quaint, established and very clean. He ordered sweet and sour pork and fried rice, but I was too shy and said that I wasn’t hungry. Yeah, I had checked him out all night. He’s safe and from a “good family”. My mother had only to say those words to me once, and it was like I had heard them for an eternity.

  After William was finished eating, he had the leftovers packed up for takeout. I was starving but I wasn’t going to say it; I didn’t want to make a bad impression— like I was greedy or something. Later, we went further into Berkeley; then we walked down Telegraph Avenue; it hadn’t changed.

  …

  The hippie’s still dominated the city’s cultural flavor. The shaggy-headed street vendors took up every inch of space at the edge of the sidewalk, displaying and trying to sell an assortment of 70’s centric clothing, jewelry and drug paraphernalia. I was intrigued even though I have been down Telegraph so many times.

  We ended up at Tower Records on Durant Street. After looking around the store for a good hour, William purchased Stevie Wonder’s new album entitled “Talking Book”. It was released in October of 1972. I had heard it on 1580 KDAY, broadcasted from Los Angeles. I LIKED IT! This man has class.

  The time went spent together on our first date just seemed to fly.

  “What are you doing tomorrow?” William spoke but still didn’t look at me.

  My door opened slowly after the words sunk into my brain. I shrugged.

  It had been a wonderful night that had given a new and mysterious texture to my young life. It was probably the second time in my life where I felt really grown up; the first was when I boarded the plane to go off to college. But I really didn’t want to commit to another date when I didn’t know whether my mother was planning to have my family over to dinner for my homecoming. It would’ve been her way to do such a thoughtful thing.

  “Jus…just call me,” I told my new and presumed suitor.

  We did not kiss. William just smiled and I tried to read between the lines.

  I couldn’t.

  Before I went back to UCSD to begin my second quarter of undergrad school, William and I had gone out on about three more dates. On our last date, William drove me up to the top of the Berkeley Hills to watch the stars at night. We parked near the Lawrence Hall of Science and after sitting quietly for about two hours, the young William leaned over from the driver’s seat to surprise me with a kiss. It was a little timid but to me, it represented the kind of lovely and decent progress that couples make when no one is in a hurry. In my young heart, I was feeling something new.

  I wanted more.

  He’s from a good family.

  9

  True Love So Fast?

  THE OTHER BOYS THAT I DATED IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD before I went to college were just test rats. Sorry guys. I did what the other girls were doing: I chose a boyfriend, talked on the telephone, smooched and gave up the occasional pelvic grind action just to keep things going. In other words, I went through the motions because romance— such as it was— seemed to be an intricate part of growing up in a neighborhood where youthful male and female relationships were important and even encouraged by a few parents, though in a very proper way.

  When a young girl reached the age of sixteen, she was allowed to have “company”. It was that semi-private time allowed to a prospective couple to explore the possibilities of courtship and then later, marriage. This was never the deal in my home. Boys could come over, but they were better off never declaring any real intentions. AND if I had ever fallen in love before I met William, I didn’t know about it. Of course, I know now that I did my share of pretending just to fit in. But the truth is— I really didn’t know what love was and my best definition was based on the interaction I saw between Ward and June had on “Leave it to Beaver”. Sounds ridiculous now, but I watched this show and others like it on television in the 60s. It was my textbook and the daily dramatization that I could access to get an idea of what family living was really about. I REALLY used to wish that my family was like the Cleavers.

  Sadly, I could never claim the knowledge that my own mother and father loved each other, nor could I claim it of my mother and stepfather. And so the importance of “love”, as an essential element in male and female relationships, was never genuinely espoused or exemplified in my home. I would learn much, much later that William also grew up in a household which was parentally “love deficient”.

  …

  During the short time that William and I had together the winter of 1972, I felt something for him that I hadn’t felt for any other guy I dated. I looked up to him as an example of a mature and decent young man. He wasn’t silly and didn’t seem to be irreconcilably driven by the need for sex. I imagined it was because he “respected me”. The more we dated, the more his positive qualities drew me closer and closer to him. I believe that this is what made me think that I was in love for the first time. And even though I had been intimate with a man before dating William, I had never “gone all the way” or been sexual to the extent that I was experienced by any stretch of the imagination. I was determined to “save myself” for my prince.

  So—

  When I got back on campus after break, the first thing I did was to declare that I had a boyfriend in Northern California— those Southern California guys got the message— ‘back up!’ But nobody cared about my new declarations and so I was left alone to pine and moon for William, my new baby love. I also had plenty of time to study. And in my abundance of free time, I listened to Earth, Wind & Fire, Donny Hathaway and Marvin Gaye. I cried when I heard, “Distant Lovers” —even after the millionth time. OMG! Love, or whatever I was feeling, felt beautifully painful. Perhaps, it was an omen.

  I guess one could reasonably speculate that I fell in love with the idea of being in love, otherwise, how could I have taken the seemingly amorphous jump from going out on a couple of dates with someone I barely knew, to calling him my man and then sending him off on his military way while I went back to my college life to long for him, such as I had never longed for a man ever before? And even though William hadn’t asked me to go with him— that was the teen version of a commitment phrase back then, I felt sure that we were a couple, and so I latched onto that. In retrospect though, I think that I had premature attachment disorder —if there is such a thing.

  After a few months apart, and after I had written William about ten letters without one in return, he sent me a 14kt gold ring without even a word on a plain piece of paper. It spelled the “L-O-V-E” in a perfect size five. I put it on and cried and I was quietly left to create a definition for its meaning. If William loved me, why couldn’t he just write it? But it would be months before William and I had a chance to be together again. I cherished my token of love and waited for William to contact me.

  10

  A Sign- 1973

  MY FRESHMAN YEAR AT UCSD WAS GRUELING. And although I thrived on the academic challenges of college, I could not ignore how intense and anxious I felt most of the time. On a psychological level, I knew that it was okay for me to feel some discomfort with being out of my element— West Oakland. After all, it had been the only locale I had truly known for eighteen years, and perhaps for that reason, I found myself seeking attention from the campus medical center for anxiety. Many days I endured overwhelming stress and short periods of depression. I couldn’t explain where these feelings came from at first because my grades were good and I really had few worries. Later, I would refer to my enhanced blues as a symptom of separation anxiety or something like it. No matter though; I felt okay with the self-diagnosis. Besides, it was better than just wondering my little self to death.

  And strangely enough, William’s unexpected entrance into my life, in the middle of leaving home and being away at college, seemed to be the thing that slightly lightened my stress load, and in a complementary way, our informal
union kept me romantically linked to the place I knew so well. I had developed strong feelings for him that I couldn’t shake. But there were times when I couldn’t totally understand how he seemed to fit into my life. Unfortunately, I didn’t dwell on it.

  My mother and my siblings were the other part of my life. They kept me connected to my home, my Oakland, emotionally and spiritually. I loved them so much.

  Mid-June 1973— the first weekend of my homecoming for the summer was near at hand.

  Yea!!! I could finally do something with all my stored up love.

  I had written to William two months earlier. I wanted to let him know when I would be in town. I gave him the exact date. HE NEVER WROTE BACK. So, when he showed up at my mother’s door on the same day my plane touched down at OAK International Airport, I knew it was no coincidence. But I had to wonder why he couldn’t extend himself to at least acknowledge he had gotten my correspondence. I thought that was a little disrespectful. Later, I cautioned myself not to take things so seriously.

  A handful of scenarios had played out in my head when I imagined how William and I would greet each other after being apart for six months. All of them included passionate kissing and hugging or something like that. And even though we hadn’t experienced that much romancing during the past Christmas vacation, he had sent me a… L-O-V-E ring.

  What else could he mean?

  But what happened between William and me when I got home wasn’t even close to what I expected. William just half-smiled at me. I couldn’t tell if he was glad to see me or whether he had just made the biggest mistake of his life. It was indeed an awkward moment. It took some time, but I got past it. And years would go by before I could fully understand the dualistic nature of his behavior.

  Anyway, William had appeared to accomplish some major things in between the time I was away at school and he was stationed at Fort Ord, near Monterrey. He had purchased a spiffy 1973, Datsun 240Z. It was dark orange and I couldn’t imagine a more perfect car or a more perfect color for him. He had invested in a new wardrobe that was both classy and sexy. He was also wearing the best smelling cologne in the world, or at least I thought so— Musk by Jovan. I focused on absorbing the newness of my suitor only to strangely feel like I never knew him. I looked at him again after being seated in his car; I thought back to his dry greeting. Really strange. Why so cold? Maybe he was still shy. Again, I told myself to give him time. Besides, we had the whole summer, and my being in Oakland, put me closer to Fort Ord where William was stationed.

  “Let’s go for a ride.” William offered like it was a glass of water.

  “Right now?” I was thinking about my family. I hadn’t even had a chance to see them all.

  “Yeah now?”

  Damn boy! I felt him look me over, up and down as if he didn’t realize the oddness of his demeanor. It felt like he was making mental notes, or that he was completing a silent survey on my appearance. Answer him, I jolted myself. “Okay; a ride would be cool.” Lil’ pushy.

  I grabbed my sunglasses and we were out the door without fifty words passing between us to close up the quiet space of the six months that we were apart. As he drove swiftly down the streets, I tried to merge myself into the magic of freedom that came with not having to go to class and study intensely. Yes, that was the lick! True freedom.

  I took in a fresh breath of air through William’s sunroof, and then I looked out the window at the worn down houses in my neighborhood. Some things hadn’t changed. And it seemed that no matter what HUD (Housing & Urban Development) was up to, it wasn’t changing the existence of the majority of the poor residents in West Oakland. I thought about Seventh Street, the prostitutes and wondered whether they would ever be happy to have a regular job. Yes…I was a free-thinking college student. Then, I pushed myself as deeply as I could into the passenger seat and resigned to let myself have fun.

  Note: [When I was in my teens and living less than a block from where prostitutes strolled during the night, I felt sorry for them. I knew what they were doing, but I couldn’t understand how a woman could surrender her body to any man who had a few bucks. Sometimes I watched them. They seemed like the emptiest people in the world as they clung to their coats for warmth in the winter months. Maybe it was the only warmth they knew. And just as I watched the prostitutes with all my unmitigated wonder, William was watching them too… but for another reason.] How could I have known?

  That first summer evening together after our long separation, William drove me all over the Bay Area, even to parts I had never seen. He liked driving. He was so quiet. We watched the bright evening stars hovering over Strawberry Canyon; it was a place that he doted on like it was his most favorite place in the world. I fell in love with it too and made him promise to bring me back again. In an instant, it became clear that William was trying to impress me. It worked! And it fascinated me that he had intentionally acquainted himself with landscapes and places beyond West Oakland; he adored them as though they were an extension to his own backyard. It was as though he had a right to lay claim to the beauty which was never part of our neighborhood.

  The next night, we strolled as casually as tourist down Telegraph Avenue, again. This seemed to be another one of William’s favorite places. We both loved the little clothing boutiques and William didn’t mind that I took my time to look around the women’s stores. He was sophisticated and perfect!

  He smiled. “See anything you want?”

  I smiled. “No.” I was modest.

  Before the end of our date, William must have purchased a large pair of silver hooped earrings when I wasn’t looking. He gave them to me as I was getting out of his car.

  “Put them on!” He spoke boldly, assertively. Then he stepped back.

  I put them on. They were heavy as hell. I thought about how easily and proudly the women in the Black Panthers wore big earrings. I’m so cool.

  “You look cute,” William was beaming.

  “Thank you.” My man.

  That was the greatest Saturday I ever had!

  When Sunday came, I got a little sad because I knew William would have to go back to his base at Fort Ord, CA. But I was still anxious to see what he had in store for me even though I knew he wasn’t going to be a good conversationalist. He’ll get better.

  I apologized to my mother for running out no sooner that I had gotten home. She accepted and gave me the look she had given when I went out on dates—keep your dress down and drawers up. I got the message loud and clear. I kissed her, folded the cash she had given me and I ran down to get into William’s little car.

  He had a huge smile of his face. “We’re going to a DIFFERENT KIND OF PLACE TONIGHT,” William announced.

  Okay Mr. Happy Face. Finally! Signs of vibrant life.

  I took a moment to think. Hummm…. “Okay…but what do you mean…DIFFERENT PLACE?”

  I paused to try and read William’s voice for clues. It all sounded so mysterious, and I didn’t have a solid reference base to ascertain what William might have had in store for me. He hadn’t spoken even a smooth paragraph that I could anchor to some meaningful analysis. But… enough introspection!

  I hopped in on my side and we took off. “Are you going to tell me where we’re—?”

  “WHAT’S WRONG GIRL? Don’t like surprises?!”

  I looked over at William.

  Who is this that I’m in the car with?

  There were signs of real personality in his brown eyes—like I had never seen before. “Okay,” I relented. “You’re the boss!

  I had once thought that William seemed so curt because he was in the military. I knew how soldiers were starched and grilled into a very specific profile. I figured that maybe he didn’t know how to turn that part of himself off when he was away from the base.

  What did I know?

  Then I thought that maybe he was the way he was because of how he was raised.

  Let it go, girl. I kept telling myself.

  But, I didn’t let go, right away.
I kept talking to myself inside of my own head. It’s going to be okay. Don’t worry. It takes a while to really groove with someone. It took a while for me to take my own advice, and after I did, I was done worrying.

  Quietly, I got excited at the thought of going ‘somewhere different’. I already had a gold ring, a pair of silver hoop earrings and I had seen parts of Berkeley I never knew existed. At that time, this was substantial.

  After we passed the Port of Oakland and were heading toward the toll booths, I knew we were going to San Francisco. Hey, I thought, this will be a surprise. I hadn’t been to San Francisco since my senior prom at the Sheraton Hotel in the spring of 1972. Time had gone by so quickly. I tried to calm my enthusiasm, but it didn’t work.

  The weather was excellent in the Bay Area. I had my red, white and blue halter top on and my giant hooped earring from my “Mr. Quiet.”. My curly natural was in full-effect. My body was thicker and curvier than it had ever been, and I was through hiding my assets. I had really learned and believed that I was a black, beautiful woman. I felt liberated! Thank God for the 70s!

  Note: [The only thing between Oakland and San Francisco is about five good minutes.]

  William drove up and the steep hills of San Francisco with the skill of a seasoned driver in his new car. He looked sexy at the wheel and this was the first time that I had made that observation about him. I marveled at all the lights and all people on the streets of San Francisco. I felt relaxed with William. He gave off a good vibe, a comforting feeling— enough to stop me from worrying about anything… even getting back home late.

  He was a good guy from a good family! My mother liked him.

  …