Monsters among us

A friend of mine who, for obvious reasons, will remain anonymous responded to my "Godfather's Day" post from last summer; it featured Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Cinderella." I've sat on this response for several months now, but what she has to say needs to be heard. A word of warning: It's not pretty. Here, edited, is what she wrote (and gave me permission to use):

I've heard the song several times on the radio and always find it well-written and pretty tuned in as to the likely reality of a good father's perspective.

I'm regrettably a daughter who falls into the "or worse" category of father experiences. Begins with a "p" and most people go to prison for it.

Growing up I held the hope for myself that justice would be served during his time on earth - that's not gonna happen. He's a pillar of the church and his community, smart enough to know that maintaining that status will always provide him access to the young children of family and friends.

Years ago I brought his photo to the police, knowing they couldn't do anything about what he did to me but hoping someone who needed to identify him for their own child would have a way to do that. The detective I spoke with got a sad look on his face and said he would accept the photo but the reality is that people like my dad elude them forever.

I'm childless by choice - and when married, my then-husband and I agreed to remain so - but in my case the overarching reason for that is to not provide my father another victim - knowing that whatever precaution I could take to prevent that would not match his devilish, manipulative cunning. I'm sad at heart about it - even one instance of sexual abuse is soul-eviscerating, but years of it planted in me the seed of severe breakdowns for nearly two decades till I came to terms with the reality of its inception.

So the song - which I do like - and the subject route to profound pain ... the most vicious element being that I've never been anything but helpless as he wrenches children from a state of fairy tale of innocence to a life of pain and distorted perceptions.

That has always been the hardest part by far - and each member of my family watches the emotional disturbance of their own children by blaming their children rather than accept the claim I have made for years about my Teflon father.

For my part, I am now a reporter in the community in which my parents live. In my Father's Day column I included his photo and name - in the subterfuged, muted hope that they might again provide the aid for anyone who would otherwise not have it. My parents relocated to [my town] about 10 years ago from where I grew up, and it has been all tabula rasa for them since.

For what it's worth, I believe most parents of young children fear for their safety from without - strangers, dangerous streets and playgrounds - and either by resolute intent or through ignorance never appreciate the hunting skill of the wolves in their own dens.

I gotta say, the woman's got guts. She permitted me to publish this letter as a service to parents, to warn them to watch for signs of abuse within the family. Be fair, but don't dismiss any possibility -- the monsters among us are counting on your trust.

I'll have more to say in another post.