11x02 - What If He Gets Out?

[bunniefuu]

I was on the phone still with

the 911 operator
as I went into the house.

I think that I just thought,
"No, not possible.

Let's go see for yourself."

Jesse is one big ball of spite.

I mean, he has infinite hatred.

He gained so much joy out of
other people's fear

and pain.

Bad people exist,
and I happen to be

related to one of the worst
people I know.

Jesse had intentions
to k*ll me,

and he still does right now.

It's also extra devastating,

because he's up
for parole.

I'm extremely fearful
for my life.

He might get out one day.

This is a picture of Jesse,

who is three years
older than me, in preschool,

and he looks so cute
and innocent,

which is a little heartbreaking.

This makes me immediately
think of my brother's preschool

teacher, and she told me
he always kind of

seemed different.

He looks just so...

sweet and playful and childish.

But when I guess
the cameras weren't present,

he was already
kind of different.

Jesse was always kind of
quiet, withdrawn.

He never really fit in.

It honestly makes me
a little sad that

he could have been so cute
and innocent at one point.

Looking at this photo
and trying to think of...

happy circumstances I might
have shared with him,

I can't... his goal in life
generally was just

to try to make us
as miserable as he was.

My mom had one of
the hardest moral compasses

I have ever encountered in
my entire life.

She raised us to know right
from wrong.

However, I don't remember
a time when he wasn't...

a liar.

I think probably the earliest
memory I have

in terms of manipulation is
the Oreo story.

We didn't have a lot of
junk food in the house.

And I remember one instance,
she bought this pack of Oreos.

Jesse! Amy!
Come here, please!

And I remember Jesse being
probably, like,

eight, maybe nine,

and he ate almost the whole
pack in one sitting.

Who ate all these?

And through,
like, gritted black teeth,

Oreos full in his teeth,

he said that I had eaten them.

Jesse, I see the crumbs
on your teeth.

Mom made it a very strong
point, though, to tell us,

like, hey, if you lie to me,
I won't be able to believe you.

It'll be like the boy
who cried wolf,

and he just wouldn't step down
from that lie.

I only had one!

She ate all the others.

Jesse absolutely knew
right from wrong.

I'm not lying.

I think that
he almost got off on

knowing his actions

were wrong and that he was
getting away with them.

Fine.

He taught himself to do
whatever he had to do

to get whatever he wanted.

Go.

This is probably my favorite
photo of the three of us...

Not because it's the best
photo of us,

but because it really kind of

painfully illustrates
our dynamic a bit.

That smug smirk on his face.

I don't remember him being
a happy kid.

I don't remember him smiling
a lot.

And I can see in this smile,
the mockery.

It almost looks like
he's laughing at how much

she adores him.

It looks like
she's seeing him for

who she wants to see him for
and not who he actually was.

I was in fourth grade, and he
was in about seventh grade.

Things were absolutely already
tumultuous in our home.

He would pick a fight about
everything... chores, food,

mess... it doesn't matter,
there was a constant fight.

And the very first violent
act he ex*cuted

was punching a hole
in the wall in our house.

There were so many holes
punched in the wall.

Probably 10 or 15

holes this deep in our walls.

And we would worry he'd hit us.

He would punch a hole and say,
"That could be your face."

Why was he full of
so much anger?

We tried to make an excuse.
We tried to figure it out.

Jesse!

- What is going on?
- Nothing.

And sometimes that excuse
can be my dad's absence.

My dad left my mom
before I was born.

I really do think
Jesse never got over

the feeling of being abandoned
from my father.

But there are plenty
of fatherless

children who are still fully
functioning adults.

- You have to stop this.
- Or what?

And I think he allowed himself
to get more and more angry as

the years went on, because he
always thought things should

have been easier for him.

Go to your room.

I think that is
his very first excuse

towards the path
that he chose in life.

As his behavior
became so out of control,

my mom started seeking help
from medical professionals,

and nobody seemed to know
what to do with him.

He was being detained in
teen rehabilitation centers

and sent home afterwards,

and he became extremely angry

and volatile.

One day, I remember there was
a knock on our door, randomly,

and my mom answered, and there
were just some people in suits.

They told her they were from
CPS, Child Protective Services,

and they needed us outside.

So they pulled my brother
and I outside.

I just need to ask you
a few questions, okay?

I knew something was wrong.
I knew something was weird.

This wasn't right.

They were asking me
questions like,

"Does your mom ever hit you?"

- Has she ever hurt you guys?
- No way.

My mom was
my best friend.

No, absolutely not.

Um, and you know, they're,
like, lifting up my shirt,

checking for bruises, and I
remember, like, neighbors

peering through their windows,

and my mom was,
like, embarrassed.

She had just assumed somebody in

the neighborhood had called
CPS on her.

But I remember looking over at
Jesse, and he smiles at me,

and it wasn't just like
a "It's gonna be okay smile."

It was like a very sinister,
dark smile.

Is there anything
you need to tell us?

He was just gaining
way too much pleasure

out of these people
questioning us about her.

Amy.

And it made me think
that he had caused that

day's occurrences,

like, wanting to turn
my mom in for something

that she didn't do.

As soon as he sensed

somebody wanting him to behave
in a certain way,

he was determined to do
the opposite.

And that was such
an awful day for me,

such an awful experience.

After CPS left,

I remember mom
hugging us both and then

we never really spoke about
that day again.

Are you okay?

Mom always wanted to believe
in the best in everybody,

but especially her own children.

But when I look back
at all of Jesse's actions,

I see that Jesse is capable of
almost anything.

I don't think I have happy
memories with my brother.

Thinking back, there are only

sort of tainted,
manipulative memories.

And it started relatively
innocently enough as

the cycle of abuse
sometimes does.

Money was tight.

My mom was a single mother,
and I remember one year,

I think I was in 5th grade,

she had bought me a yearbook,
and I begged her.

It was like $200
for the yearbook.

And I got that yearbook, and I
saw my picture, and I hated it.

And I scratched
my face out of it.

- What are you doing in here?
- Nice picture.

And my brother found it,
and he... oh, God.

He was like,
"She's gonna k*ll you.

You just wasted all
her money."

Mom is gonna lose it
when she sees this.

It made me feel like
she was gonna be

severely disappointed in me,
and I believed it.

Jesse, please.

I won't tell.

But then you have to do
something for me.

So he... he blackmailed me to
stay home from school.

So I did.

He starts blackmailing me
to do different

things, like sexual acts
in front of him.

He would make me undress
in front of him,

insert objects inside of myself,

and he would keep those items
as, like, totems.

You know, he actually never
touched me sexually,

so it took me years

to realize that I had
been abused.

In fact, I had never even
heard the term sibling abuse.

I think he knew there was

absolutely something wrong
with his behavior,

and that's why he never
touched me.

Because he could just say,
"I never touched her."

That only goes to show
his shrewdness in terms

of manipulation even more.

He gained power,

and...

Happiness from seeing my misery.

A few months after
the worst parts of it,

it actually all ended.

I clearly remember one day,
we were in my mom's room,

all three of us, and Jesse
wanted me to do something

for him.

I said no, and he simulated

having me wrapped around
his finger.

He twirled his finger around
the other one, and my mom

saw that action, and she asked
him what that was about.

What is this?

And, you know,
we both kind of froze.

I was like, wow,

what... what am I gonna
admit in this moment?

Amy, what's going on?

He's telling me I have
to do whatever he says.

And all I did say was,
he's been blackmailing me

for something, um,

and that means he's got me
wrapped around his finger,

and she made me tell her,
I showed her my yearbook.

Didn't tell her anything else.

I was sure that I would

be grounded for the rest of
my life.

- But she laughed.
- Because of this?

She said, "I'm sorry you thought
I would have been

that angry about something
like that."

Amy.

Come on.
That is nothing.

That's when the sexual
abuse stopped entirely.

But also when he realized that
level of

power that he had over me
was gone.

That's when he started
resorting to more

physical measures.

Jesse was a very
volatile person.

I mean, he could go
from 0 to 600

in the matter of a moment.

It was a constant,

is he gonna be okay?

Is he gonna be nice today?

Or is he gonna make
my life miserable?

I remember the violence
really starting to

escalate when he was
about 16 or 17.

I remember,

I was making myself lunch.

I was in the kitchen,
and out of nowhere,

he just came up behind me

and solidly, swiftly kicked me
in between my legs.

I can't even describe the pain.

It radiated through my pelvis
for days.

I remember
hunching over and crying

immediately and just looking
up at him like why?

I remember my mom was in
the room, and she was like,

"What the?"

Jesse!

Why did you do that?

I was just curious.

He just said, "Oh, I just
wanted to see if

it hurts a woman to be kicked
between her legs."

That was his excuse.

Get out of here.
No. Go.

Are you okay?

It was so traumatic to just out

of nowhere be attacked
for no reason.

But we're kind of writing
Jesse off.

He's going through a tough time.

Boys will be boys
or kids will be kids.

We didn't realize that
was abuse.

We just thought we were going
through a really tough time.

Not only was Jesse
the increasingly violent

and increasingly volatile,

but he also had this penchant
for darkness and death.

I can remember one instance in
particular, out of nowhere,

Jesse asked mom if she had
ever seen a dead body.

Have you ever seen anyone die?

And she admitted, yes,
she had.

Unfortunately, yeah,
it was horrible.

And he goes, "Well, like,
tell me details,

and, you know, was it bloody?"

Wait, are you serious?
What happened?

When he asked her, I could
see her reticence,

I could see she didn't want to
talk about it, but she explained

how there was a party in
the neighborhood...

And somehow,

some of the kids found a g*n
and started playing with it.

The teenagers had decided
to play Russian roulette.

And, um, the parents heard
a g*nsh*t, ran over, and my mom

said she saw one

of the teenagers had shot
himself, and you know,

Jesse was just like,
"What? Tell me more."

I mean he asked her, like,
"Blood everywhere?

What color were his brains?"

Was it in the head?
Did his head explode?

Okay, don't be disgusting.
We are not talking about this.

I knew in my heart,
and she knew in her heart,

I could see it in her face,

that it was, like,
confirmation that he had this

twisted obsession with all
things dark and dangerous.

And she ended the conversation
right there.

I said we're not talking
about this.

We never talked about it again,
to be honest.

And I really wish I had with
my mom.

Jesse was very manipulative.

So I truly believe he made her
think that he would change.

But unfortunately, that is not
the way things played out.

As time went on,

his affinity
towards weapons worsened,

and it scared me immensely to
know that he was

collecting weapons.

Jesse would go online

and obtain really almost
anything he wanted.

I remember him coming home
with swords.

He definitely had a g*n,

at least one,

and my mom really didn't know
some of the extent of things.

She didn't know he had g*ns
until he shot me.

And I remember just walking
into his bedroom to

say something, I don't know,
I wanted to ask him a question.

Hey, have you seen my CD player?

I can't find it.

I looked at him,
and he pulled from

his side a g*n that was
all black,

and, like, my heart stopped.

I remember standing
in his doorway,

and he's aiming a g*n at me.

The look in his eyes,

he got too much joy.

He was smiling.

He was happy,
seeing the fear in my eyes.

It was like he gained so much

joy out of other people's fear
and pain.

I remember

thinking, "Holy,
you're about to die.

Get out of his room.
Get away from him."

When I turned away from him to
get away, he shot me.

And I felt an immense pain in
my buttocks,

and I realized it was a BB g*n
that he had shot me with.

What the hell?

Oh, don't be such a baby.

Afterwards,

he definitely tried to write
off his actions as like,

"Oh, I was just
with you.

"I was... I was messing around.

It's brothers... brothers will
do that kind of thing."

But his actions spoke much
louder than his words.

There was absolutely
no remorse from him.

That was one of the scariest
moments of my life.

It was awful to live
on eggshells.

But that is exactly how
I lived in that house.

It was part of his fear tactic,
to make sure

we knew we weren't really that
safe under our own roof.

I can remember several instances

where Jesse

gained so much pleasure

from hurting mom, at her worst.

She had ankle problems
and back problems, which left

her wheelchair-bound for
majority of the healing.

Can you make me some tea?

Uh, maybe later.

So I can remember her getting
up out of her wheelchair,

and him just shoving her down
forcefully into it.

Just stay there.
I said I would get it.

Stop!

He hit her.

She couldn't lift herself up,
and he had left.

I would hear her shouting,
and it

would be her calling for me.

Amy?

It was horrific to see her
in so much pain.

- Are you okay?
- Yeah, I think so, yeah.

But it was even more horrific
to see somebody that I thought

I had loved want to
cause her even more pain.

Jesse was dropping out of
high school.

Jesse didn't have a job,
he didn't have a car.

He had no way of getting himself

out of the house any given day,

and mom was bound to the house
at the same time,

and he was put in the position
of taking care of her.

You can't keep letting him
do this to you.

He was angry that he was
now stuck at home with my mom.

And their relationship
just worsened.

She would call the cops.

I remember the cops came to

my house probably upwards of


Yeah, it's Jesse again.

But no parent wants
their child in jail.

And so she would drop
the charges.

She wanted to protect him,
and that's

why she would let him back in.

This is around the time when

he started really hating mom,

and I mean hate with
every sense of the word.

I was finishing up
high school, heading

into college,
and it got so much worse.

Um, and so much more violent
when Jesse knew

I was not going to be home
for a while.

For instance, one night,

I was at a fraternity party,
and I told mom

and Jesse that I would
not be coming home,

that I would, in fact, be
sleeping over a friend's house

that evening.

I remember after, like, three
hours or so, going back to

my purse and checking my phone
just to see if anybody

had called.

Um, and there were just


the last hour or so from my mom.

- I'll be right back.
- Okay.

That left me a pit in
my stomach.

My first thought was something
awful had happened.

I immediately called back.

Um, and mom picked up, crying.

What happened...
Is everything okay?

And she said,
"Well, I need you home.

"Jesse attacked me.

"He grabbed an aerosol can
and a lighter

and sprayed fire at me."

Well, did you call the police?

Of course I believed her,
I just didn't want to.

I remember mom kicked him out,
and we talked about what we

were gonna do with Jesse
and if we'd allow him

back in the house.

You can't keep taking him back
like this.

Whenever mom and Jesse
would fight,

it always ended with him
coming to me and expressing

the desire to watch her die.

Stay where you are.
I'm coming home.

He'd say, "Come on, let me
just run to Mexico.

I'll k*ll mom. You split
the money with me later."

That conversation wasn't
one conversation.

It was probably


At the time, I did not
think he was serious.

I never realized he would act
on those threats.

I was wrapping up
college, kind of lost,

and trying to find my way
a little bit.

So I sought some guidance
from a psychic.

And I told mom, and mom loved

the idea of going to a psychic,
and it was really kind of

mind-blowing, to be honest.

She shared some things
about my past

that happened to be spot-on.

The woman let us take notes.

We could write them all out.

And I asked mom to see her
notes, and she said no.

And I asked her why,
and I asked her what

the woman said, and she said
she wouldn't tell me.

She said, "I just don't want
to talk about it.

It's too negative."

Those were her words.

So that made me think that there

was something very ominous
mentioned in that conversation.

Later on,
it became very clear to me

that she had warned mom
about Jesse.

I have to talk to you
about something.

Okay.

It was not long after
she said she had just named

me the sole beneficiary of
an accidental death

life insurance policy.

I'm afraid he might
do something.

I knew she had several...
You know,

she had a heart attack policy.
She had cancer policy.

But this one was the only
policy that

covered her m*rder
and did not name my brother

as a beneficiary.

Mom.
That's crazy.

I'm sure he's not.
I don't... I don't know.

I don't know.

I can't even imagine having that

conversation with one of
my kids.

I could see she was sad.

She was kind of just facing

a reality as she thought
could very well happen.

It was clear how fearful
she was of him.

I'm just overthinking.

But as she's telling me
this, I'm in complete denial.

I had no clue.

I had no way of knowing
or truly believing

how bad things could get.

Mom did, but I didn't.

Hey, don't worry.

Nothing is gonna happen.

September 25th, 2007,

was kind of just
like any other day.

I was at work.

The first phone call
I received was from mom.

Hi, mom.

She wanted to know
when I was gonna be home.

Is everything okay?

I had a date.

I told her it would be some
time before I was

able to head back, and she said
fine and hung up.

I felt off.

I felt there was something
going on at home.

Not long after we hung up,
I got a call from Jesse.

Hi, Jesse.

His voice was tense
as well, and he wanted to know

when I would be home, too.

I don't know...
I'm not gonna be home

until after 10...
I'm going on a date.

Their phone calls
were so close together.

I got the vibe
that this was just

not a good evening
for both of them.

But this wasn't that rare.

You know, I would get
these phone calls occasionally

where I would be needed,

and most of the time, I would
drop what I had... was doing

and... and come.

Other times, I couldn't.

And this was one of
those evenings.

Fast forward
about an hour or two.

I'm on the date,
and although I probably

wouldn't normally
pick up the phone,

I think the previous
conversations I had with mom

and Jesse had left a pit in
my stomach.

And so when mom
called me again next...

I picked up.

- I'm sorry, I have to take this.
- Yeah.

Mom?

She wanted to know
when I would be home.

I told her it would be
some time still.

I asked her if everything
was okay.

She said fine, again.

I said, "Okay, bye."

Is everything okay?

Yeah, it's just family stuff.

So where were we?

Within a few minutes of
getting off the phone with mom,

Jesse was calling me again.

Jesse, I can't talk right now.

I can remember his voice.

It was so tense at that time,
and instantly, very gruff,

"What are you doing?
What are you up to?"

And I told him I was on a date.

No, I'm still out.

"Well, let me know
when you're on your way home."

And that was our conversation.

Basically, he hung up on me.

And that was the moment I knew,

very clearly, that something
was absolutely wrong.

I tried to focus on my date,

but I could not ignore
the nagging sensation

that something was wrong.

- I think I have to go.
- Oh.

I left my date,

and I started home with
this big pit in my stomach.

So I called home.

Come on mom, where are you?

And mom did not pick up,
and that was kind of weird,

especially since it was, like,


So I called Jesse.

"Hey, mom is not picking up.

This is very weird."

Jesse, do you know where mom is?

And at that point,
Jesse told me not to go home.

I was like, "What are you
talking about?

Of course I'm going home.
It's 10 o'clock at night."

"Just don't go home,"
and he hung up.

Uh, so I called him
back again, and he said,

"I told you, don't go home."

And I said, "Why, Jesse,
come on, like, enough."

And he said,
"I k*lled mom."

And I think I remember
screaming and saying,

"No, you didn't."

I told him to shut up.

I told him not to lie to me.

Um, and he said,
"No, I k*lled mom."

And he hung up,
and he turned off his phone.

I thought to myself, you can

go home and see if he's lying.

You can call 911 and report it.

And that's what I did.

I... I...

It was more of a possibility
for him to

tell me a sick joke
like that on the phone,

because that had happened
millions of times, right?

Just to see a reaction,
you know?

So, I think that I just
thought, no, not possible.

I was on the phone still with

the 911 operator
as I went into the house.

Yes, please.

I looked to my left,
into the kitchen, which

was her favorite room,
and that's where I found her.

She was lying on the ground in
a very large pool of blood.

I saw that her hand was
outstretched, and just out of

the reach of her fingers was
the phone.

She was trying to get help.

And on the off chance that she
was still around, her spirit,

her... even if she was just
hanging on by a thread,

I leaned over her, and I hugged
her and kissed her, and I told

her I loved her,
and then I ran out,

and about the time I...

My feet hit the grass outside,
the police had arrived.

Probably around midnight or so,

everybody that had amassed
outside of

our house migrated
into my neighbor's home.

I don't remember faces.

I don't remember, like,
even seeing details.

I just remember very tall
sheriff's department deputies

telling me that Jesse had, after
k*lling mom, had gone upstairs,

washed himself off, changed
his clothes, and fled.

Amy?

What happened?
Did you find him?

He had called
a friend for some help.

He told the friend he did
something really bad.

He needed help,

and he needed a ride to Mexico.

He was arrested.

I took the seat,
and I was forced to just look

right at him, and there was
just something different

about him.

He looked purely evil.

I mean, truly maniacal.

How're you doing, sis?

One of the first things
out of

his mouth was,
"I dream about mom a lot.

She visits me here.
She forgives me."

- Mom's not mad.
- Stop.

He didn't ask for
forgiveness, but he basically

implied that he wanted it

and that mom had
given it to him.

And I told him I did not.
I did not forgive him,

and I did not plan to.

You disgust me.

Eventually,
Jesse and I did

talk about what happened
that night.

He was making a sandwich
at the counter,

and mom asked him if he would
clean up after himself.

I mean, honestly,
he's come up behind me

and kicked me in the vag*na
for no reason.

So I don't think anything had
to precipitate the argument

to make him want to hurt her
the way he did.

I asked for him to take
responsibility

for what he had done.

I asked for him to stop this

legal battle that
we were embarking on.

Um, and he told me
he would think about it.

And instead he pled

not guilty by reason of
diminished capacity.

Jesse dragged out
the legal process of

our attempt to convict him
for years.

It was endless, really.

One day, I got a phone call
from the detective.

"Can I come over?
It'll be about an hour,"

that's what he said.

And in my head, oh gosh,

I'm going through
all the possibilities.

I'm thinking maybe Jesse
is dead.

Maybe he's ready to
plead guilty.

I don't know what.

And when he got there,
he sat me down, and he said,

"Did you have anything to do
with your mom's m*rder?"

And I said, "What?"

And he said, "I have to ask you
again, were you part

of the plan to k*ll
your mother?"

And I said, "Absolutely not.
She was my best friend.

"How could you be asking me
that this long into

"this process?

I've talked to you
a million times."

He pulled out a piece of paper
from his pocket,

and I could instantly see it
was just scribbles of.

Jesse's writing.

He had written this manifesto
of sorts to another inmate,

professing that I had helped
him plan my mom's m*rder.

This is the letter.

It says,

"Check it out,

"a couple of years ago,
when my sister initially

came up with the idea to do
this thing..."

Even that it makes me
so angry.

Excuse my language.

It makes me so angry
to hear him write,

"the idea to do this thing."

m*rder is a word that

I cannot go by a single day in
my life without saying.

I can't say my mom died.

I can't say she passed,
and for him to write,

"I came up with the idea to do
this thing,"

is so infuriating.

He goes on to write, "She said
when I got out I could live

"with her, and she would split

all the money she gets with me,
and nobody would ever know."

This is a little jarring.

I obviously haven't seen it
for quite some time.

And this reminds me
just how sick he is.

This just proves the very worst.

There's something else
I should warn you about.

The detective
explained that Jesse had

asked the inmate to k*ll me.

Excuse me?

The moment he told me that
Jesse had intentions to

k*ll me,
I instantly honestly threw up.

I raced to the bathroom
and vomited and did not stop.

It was almost four years after
she had been m*rder*d.

I now not only had a brother

I was trying to convict but
also a death threat looming

over my head.

I was exhausted.

The district attorney
said, "Look,

"we basically have an option
now... we can offer him

a plea deal."

And I didn't like that idea.

But again, I was just...
I was done.

Fine.

He took that plea deal,
which was offered to him.

The plea deal was
second-degree m*rder,

and he was sentenced
and given 15 to life.

I received notification
April 16th, this year,

which was only 9 and 1/2 years
after his conviction, um...

letting me know that
he was up for his very

first parole hearing.

The hearing will be
in two weeks.

I feel shocked.
I feel sick to my stomach.

I feel devastated
and disappointed

and heartbroken all over again.

I have no clue
what I would do if

Jesse got out of prison...
If I heard the words

that he was being released,

I would run as far away from
this state as possible

so he couldn't find me
and my kids.

That morning,
I think I just woke up with

a sense of dread and also
a sense of prepare for anything.

The hearing was officially
the first time I saw my brother

in about 10 years,

and he was staring right at me,
and he said hello,

and it made me sick.

One of the first things
he said was that

he has stabbed over 90 people

since getting into prison,

and he was smirking when
he was talking about how many

people he had stabbed,
and at that point he chose

to recite my address and then
tell me that he could have

my whole family and myself
k*lled if he wanted to.

It was really shocking
and gutting in that moment.

And he kept at that point,
going like this, crossing his...

I'm sorry, his thumb actually,

across his throat at me...
When the hearing was complete,

the outcome was officially
that we would be returning to

the hearing room and another
parole hearing in two years.

I have my own life sentence,
that I'll do this until

he dies,

I die, or he gets out...
Victims like myself,

we shouldn't feel like
we're given

a death sentence after
we've experienced m*rder.

Um, I think that we should be
given some sort of peace.

I am definitely taking
precautions,

and I'm considering moving,
to be honest.

Nothing would give me greater
joy to see him as a different,

happy, healed person,
but that's not possible.

Um, and this parole hearing
made it incredibly

painfully clear.

So I would like to see him
behind bars

the rest of his life.

And I hope that that is how
our story plays out.