by Lee Barnett
March arrived and dragged on, and while my visits with Savanna were far too brief, I became increasingly concerned about her wellbeing. She wasn’t a happy-go-lucky baby anymore – constantly pulling on her tiny hairs and ears and lashing out: behaviour that only seemed to worsen each time I had her. I knew that something needed to be done, and soon, for my baby daughter’s sake.
10
Brisbane Women’s Correctional Centre
Queensland, Australia
November 2013
BEING ABLE TO USE THE PHONE TO CALL SAMANTHA AND REECE whenever the phones were free made life for me so much more bearable. Once while waiting to use the phones a week or so after my arrival, I put a load of washing on. The scoop that belonged in the box of washing detergent was missing but I only had a few things to wash so no matter, my hand would do. When I dipped my hand into the powder I instantly felt a sharp jab. ‘Damn it!’ I pulled out the hidden syringe and needle.
‘Okay,’ I yelled to the girls, ‘who the fuck is this irresponsible?’
They looked away from me shame-faced, both from hearing me swear and from guilt that the only ‘clean’ girl might now be infected with God-knows-what. I looked down and squeezed my finger. No blood. The needle hadn’t broken the skin. Lucky me.
With the phone free, I entered my prison ID number, E25324, and waited for the recorded intel operater to ask me to enter the number corresponding to the person I wished to speak to. I pushed number three. (Bruce was three, Samantha was one and Reece was two.) Bruce said that a mate of his, journalist Adam Shand, had received papers from the Charleston Family Court, then Bruce said that they had totally ‘stitched me up’. (I gathered that Bruce meant I’d been screwed.) The papers consisted of my final divorce decree, all thirty-eight pages of it, and my last psych examination by Dr Madelaine Wohlreich, the psychiatrist I was court ordered to see. I hadn’t seen either of these documents as they were dated after my departure from the US in 1994.
In addition to these two important records, Bruce then said that Mom had a copy of the Family Court transcripts somewhere in her house. He said Susan and my childhood friend Lorraine had chipped in to help pay for the transcipts after I left. At any rate, Bruce assured me they were collecting them, but in the meantime his secretary Raelene would send me copies of the divorce decree and psych report. This court order was what I had begged for in vain in order to go to the Appellate Court. Somehow now, like a ghost from my miserable past, it would miraculously appear. But the mail in prison took time and the court order and psych report had to be read by Intel before it came to me, and my wait was likely to be even longer because they hadn’t been sent by my lawyer, so they weren’t a priority.
Life in prison was full of ups and downs and it meant always being on the alert, deflecting and dodging the different moods and personalities of the girls, many of whom had mental illnesses or were affected by medications that had been either provided or smuggled in, and sometimes both. On one of my first days I heard the girls discussing ‘going to the bank for a withdrawal’. I remember thinking that using my debit card would make everything so much easier for the phone. ‘Hey guys, where’s the bank?’ I said.
They looked at me, puzzled, and then their laughter was almost ear-shattering.
One of the nicer girls explained. ‘Alex, when we talk about banking we mean putting things up our cunt so we can bring it into prison for later.’
‘Oh. Oh,’ I said, ‘that is disgusting!’
Every prisoner had to work unless they were too ill or had their babies with them. My first job there was landscaping, which included garbage duty, and much heavy lifting of enormous bins.
Each day I called the kids. I was so relieved to speak to Reece, who had returned from schoolies – his crazy high-school graduation ritual – in one piece. He now wanted to go to America to see his uncle Cliff after Christmas. As we finished our call I thought how I had missed a huge part of my youngest child’s milestones – his eighteenth birthday, graduation, schoolies, and now, him preparing for his trip to the US.
Over the next few weeks I spoke a lot to Samantha, Reece and Bruce. During these calls I learned about my wonderful friends back in the US – who had got married, who had had children and who had died. I learned that both Ann and Aunt Clara had died, as had Uncle Ernie. I also learned about the horrendous TV shows, statements and flyers that had been made in my absence. Reece couldn’t wait to tell me that an FBI flyer had called me ‘armed and dangerous’, while Samantha showed more delight than necessary when she told me that countless bulletins had warned that if I were recognised, people should ‘proceed with caution’, as I was ‘mentally unstable’. But the children’s favourite FBI flyer by far was the lurid description of me as someone with a ‘voracious sexual appetite, preys on wealthy elderly men’! The three of us were in hysterics at that one.
Samantha had sent a letter to update people in the US on my progress and to give them an idea of what our lives had been like over the past twenty years. It didn’t take long before mail call became a wonderful experience and I received countless letters from friends around the world offering the most heart-warming support. I felt truly blessed.
Samantha and I went through the many people who had contacted her via Facebook. Sammy told me that Sonya Olsen had contacted her and that she had said she was my best childhood friend and had been so worried about me. I warned Sammy to keep away from her and heard a chuckle at the other end of the line. ‘Mum, trust me. I could tell she was up to no good from the start.’ My daughter was always the intuitive one, I thought. Sonya had been a friend a long time ago but she had made some very poor lifestyle choices. I had once told her how much I disapproved of them and we had a big falling out. Sonya then went on to become incredibly close to Harris. Sammy had also checked with Cliff who had pretended to believe Sonya’s lies and concern while taking careful notes, especially on any information to do with Harris and what he might be planning. I was impressed.
So I wasn’t surprised when I received a card and letter from Sonya, though it would become routine to receive one nearly every week. She wrote that I should just admit I’d suffered post-partum depression and was sure that Harris, who was kind and missed his daughter, would understand and go lightly on me. I laughed out loud. I wasn’t surprised that Harris had manipulated her; after all, she had previously perjured herself in a deposition used against me.
On one call, Samantha told me that Mary from the US Embassy would be visiting me. A few hours later, I was called to the visitors area. We shook hands, exchanged sort-of pleasantries and sat across from each other at a table. Then I decided to hell with it and asked, ‘How was it meeting my ex-husband?’
I took a punt that the only reason Mary was pressing Samantha to meet with Harris was because she too had met him in person and fell for his Southern charm. I was right.
‘He’s just a father who desperately misses his daughter,’ she responded.
Mary then handed me a piece of paper that Samantha had asked for me to have:
15 October 2013
Reece please can u put that profile pic of u in the surf on your board on your what’s app! I think it is a really great pic! Love it.
Can’t sleep again tonight so thought I would find out how things r with u.
Getting along ok with mum? Hope so. U may not think this at times but she really does love u very much. She only wants to give u and Sam the best of what we can afford of course. Stick with her.
She is a very good mother and the best any kid could wish for!
Help around the house and garden – steal her heart, surprise her with the nice things u have done for her!
You will be rewarded greatly in years to come. Promise. Do it and u will c!
Me I love u heaps too but just can’t show u that on a daily basis.
Yet again, just believe it strongly, and u will c.
Enuf of that! Studying going strongly? And surf stronger I take it!?
Have a great
day my man!
Love Dad xx
A sneaky tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. My ex-husband sent this text just two weeks before he died. It all happened a little more than a month earlier but seemed like another lifetime. I guess it was. I remembered how around that time Reece’s school called me to say he had disappeared and that they were worried about him. I was up in Hervey Bay, about three hours from home, on an overnight work trip. I phoned home and there was no answer. Finally I got him on his mobile. Reece was in bed. I asked if he was okay and could tell that he had been crying. I asked him if it was about Dad. He said he knew it wouldn’t be too long now and that he’d received a text from him while in class and just couldn’t stay sitting there any longer. He was sad, and that was more than understandable.
‘Juan was a great father to the children,’ I said as I stood with the piece of paper in my hand. Mary asked if there was anything I needed or if she could help. I looked her in the eye.
‘I have had a lifetime of pain from people who Harris got to first. Thank you but I don’t need anything from you; however, you can help my children.’
‘What would you like me to do?’
‘I’d like to leave the children knowing they will be protected. They need their permanent residencies here in Australia. Can you arrange that?’
Mary thought for a minute. ‘I know it’s been done before, and under the circumstances I think it would be granted. But you know that both your children are getting their US passports and have their American citizenship?’
‘Yes, Sammy told me, but in their hearts they’re Australian now and I know the permanent residency matters more to them than their US citizenship.’
She didn’t look too happy at that news but promised to get back to me. She never helped the children.
On my way back to the unit I heard my name called out as I passed the officers’ building. Some of my papers had arrived at last, but I had to be moved to another unit before they would give them to me. The officers were concerned that a couple of the girls where I was currently living might access my legal papers. I knew immediately who they meant. Two tough cookies who I tiptoed around while I was in the unit, but even worse was that, I had to eat burnt food with a smile on my face because one of them fancied herself as a chef. So I was fine about the move. The officers then told me that I had to keep my papers hidden under my clothes or mattress. I almost laughed at the thought. There was no hiding place in prison. If the girls wanted to find something, there was no stopping them!
Next I checked in with Bruce and he told me that everything, all the papers, had arrived from the US and that he and his scretary Raelene were busy copying them to send to me. I asked him how it all looked.
‘Incredible. Absolutely bloody incredible. With all of this information there should be no court in the world that would hold you responsible for what you were forced to do.’
My legs went weak and I leaned against the wall. ‘How soon can you get them to me?’
There were over three thousand pages so it was going to take some time, but Bruce had already cleared it with the prison authorities. He then suggested that I ask for the time to read it all in a private place.
I said a quick goodbye to the girls in the unit and played dumb when they asked me why I was moving; actually, I even pretended to be upset. After dumping my stuff and saying hello to my new unit mates I rushed back to the officers’ building and was handed a large envelope. I thanked them then shyly asked if it might be possible for me to read the papers in the library. They called Bernadette at the library to check and she gave them the okay. My heart raced in anticipation as I literally skipped towards the library.
Bernadette buzzed me in, took my prison ID and put it on the board to indicate that’s where I was. I thanked her and said I was going to receive a lot more papers soon and might she also be able to help with that. ‘No problem, I’ll organise it and send you a schedule.’ Brilliant.
I entered a room with concertinaed doors and chose a seat with my back facing any passing traffic.
Okay, I reassured myself as I opened the large envelope. This might just be the beginning but let’s see what this long-awaited court order says about my hearing and and the outcome of my mental health.
Bruce had attached a slip of paper to the order listing the South Carolina Rule 26:
Rule 26 Orders (C) Time for Issuing. Except under exceptional circumstances, an order in a domestic relations cast shall be issued as soon as possible after the hearing, but not later than 30 days thereafter.
Yep! There it was. The rule stipulating that Judge Mallard should have issued the written court order within thirty days of the conclusion of the hearing. If he had done so, I would have appealed the decision to the Appellate Court.
The court order was signed and dated 5 May 1994, seventy-three days after the hearing and oral order concluded, and forty-three days past the legal time allotted for the judge to do so.
The first five-and-a-half pages penned by Judge Mallard mostly itemised earlier court dates and their findings. But the last thirty-three-and-a-half pages played fast and loose with the truth and were written – or at the least were heavily influenced – by my husband Benjamin Harris Todd III.
It alleged that I was ‘raised in a dysfunctional family’, failed to complete my education at Auburn University, and had a ‘history of troubled relationships with men’ because of my ‘uncontrollable temper and physical violence’. Whew! I thought as I highlighted the significant lies; most of page 6 was fluoro yellow.
In stark contrast was an appraisal of Harris: a ‘successful stockbroker active in civic affairs’, ‘granted a scholarship to Yale and accepted at a variety of other prestigious schools. He attended Yale for two years but earned 3½ years credit because of his academia.’ More lies.
I continued reading.
Dr Bjorksten diagnosed the plaintiff as having irritable hyperthymic temperament, which has the characteristics of irritability, argumentativeness, preoccupation and cognitive slippage. Lee was found to have both violent ideation and occasional violent behavior, causing Harris Todd to become fearful of her and to experience a sense of helplessness.
Lee was in need of taking lithium however couldn’t while pregnant. She was prescribed Navane, however she refuses to take it. Although her psychiatrist, Dr James Folk disagreed with Dr Bjorksten’s diagnosis of hyperthymic mood disorder and did not prescribe medication, the history and symptoms, which he recorded in his notes, were consistent with hyperthymia.
I simply couldn’t believe it. I had seen a reputable psychiatrist for more than one year and who had testified there was no sign of hyperthymia and no need of medicine, and yet the author of this order tried to change the facts.
I stood up to walk around and clear my head a little before continuing reading.
The defendant (Harris) was observed to act appropriately throughout the prolonged hearing. In contrast, the Plaintiff (Lee) was out of control in the courtroom, interrupting her attorney, getting up and down from her seat and exhibiting mood swings.
There were many mentions of my alleged paramours and the inappropriateness of Samantha being exposed to men not related by blood or marriage ‘which would cause the child great harm’. But who were these phantoms?
The order also recorded that ‘the Plaintiff showed no evidence or willingness to sacrifice or adapt her personal pleasures for the benefit of the child’. In sharp contrast to this, the ‘Defendant has placed the interest of the child foremost’. The guardian ad litem recommended that the child would be better served by being with the father. She also expressed concern that once the child had learned to talk, the Plaintiff’s ‘history of temper outbursts and violence may place the child in jeopardy of harm’.
As it moved to its conclusion it also stated:
In awarding custody, I have considered that Savanna is a healthy female child of nine months of age. She has done well under the physical care of her mother during the months of he
r life; however, it is likely that she will fare even better under the care of her father. The psychological and emotional problems experienced by the mother if left untreated will create conflict and havoc in the child’s life and she will suffer accordingly.
The order also speculated that ‘The problems associated with her condition appear to be escalating’, and according to Dr Bjorksten:
If left unattended her condition could even lead to ultimate acts of violence such as homicide or suicide … Where the mother is not sufficiently stable due to her personal habits and health to properly take care of the child, custody properly may be awarded to the father.
I was numb, sick to my stomach. Twenty years on and I could still picture the three of them – Harris, Graham Sturgis and Jania Sommers – sitting at a table, brainstorming this deplorable document of lies.
I recalled how preoccupied Bjorksten had appeared to be with my weight during my pregnancy, and how each time I visited him he asked how much I’d gained. I told him that my gynaecologist Dr Rumble was not at all concerned by this and that I was eating all the time, but that the stress – especially Harris’s cruel words – hadn’t helped matters. Dr Bjorksten later testified that although I didn’t intentionally harm my baby during pregnancy, I was, however, anorexic throughout. And yet I went on to give birth to a very healthy and bonny 9.3lb baby girl, while the average weight of a newborn is 7.5lb!