09x02 - My Son Is Damaged Goods

[bunniefuu]

I have not slept a night,
one night,

since all this has started.

My God.

You think that
you know somebody,

and then they do something
like this.

I had nothing to lose.

You got... there is
absolutely nothing

that could hurt me now.

I have no consequences
for my actions,

and I plan
on hurting people.

It's just unbelievable
that I've raised a child

that would be capable of
doing something like that.

He wasn't raised like that.

I wholeheartedly
have nothing to lose,

and I'm gonna take it out
on everybody I can.

I'd rather just k*ll people.
It's much easier.

My son is damaged goods.

There's no fixing him now.

You can't fix something
that's that broken.

Some of the most
damning testimony in

the trial of Peter Avsenew
came from his own mother,

the woman who turned him
into police.

He said he had done
something that he needed to get

away for six months, and then
everything would be all right.

People think I'm terrible,

and I don't care.

I couldn't let him continue
doing what he was doing.

Somebody had to stop him.

He broke God's law...
Thou shall not k*ll.

When you break God's law,
you have to pay up the God.

But then he got
two death sentences.

God, I wish none of this
had ever happened.

I had the hardest time
picking out these pictures,

finding them,

because it's so hard for me
to look at them anymore.

Just breaks my heart.

It makes me cry.

Never thought...

we'd been doing
what we're doing.

When he was that age,

he was the happiest little
guy, always smiling.

He had so much potential.

I had such hopes for him.

He was the light of my life,

and then
this monster came along,

and where this monster
came from, I don't know.

All the hopes and dreams
I had for him are just gone.

I look at his pictures,

and I say,
"This is not a m*rder*r.

This can't be a m*rder*r,"
but it is!

What happened?

What happened to make him
turn into

this horrible...
psychotic... thing?

He first started to change

when my daughter was m*rder*d.

Peter was eight years old.

I had to tell him, sat down
on his bed and said

I had to talk to him,
and I told him

that something awful
had happened.

What's going on?

Peter had two siblings.

Jennifer was


and Eric was


Something's happened to
your sister.

My daughter
was dating George,

the guy that m*rder*d her.

She didn't want to see him
anymore, because he was

harassing her, and she got
a restraining order on him.

And that night,

he went to her house,

and, um,

he shot her point blank
with a .357 Magnum

in the base of her brain.

When I told Peter that his
sister was gone,

that she had been m*rder*d,

he said, "No, that's not true.
You're lying."

- No.
- I'm sorry.

- I don't believe you.
- I'm so, so sorry.

- You're lying! You're a liar!
- He was devastated.

It was like he lost his hero.

His whole little world was
just shattered.

- You're a liar! No!
- I'm so, so sorry.

Here he had
this person he worshiped,

and now they were gone.

He he was, like, lost.

He was just inconsolable.
He was so angry.

After the m*rder,
Peter started getting

anger issues.
He became very bitter.

He started going around
just screaming.

And he was never like that.
He was never like that.

Peter!

He was so angry.

He wanted to go to jail
and get George.

He wanted to do something
bad so he could

get in jail,
and he could k*ll George.

He wanted to do
the same thing

to George that
he did to Jennifer.

Then I said,
"You can't do that."

You don't hurt people.

Then you'd be
just as bad as he is.

He deserves to die.

I didn't know
what to do, because

I didn't know how
to handle his anger.

He started getting
in fights.

We ended up in court
when he was nine,

because, um,
he broke a kid's nose.

The kid was saying something
about Jennifer,

and he just told him to shut up
about his sister,

and the kid kept it up,
and, uh,

and Peter broke his nose.

Now, I hadn't really seen
Peter do anything like that.

So I kind of, um,
was shocked.

Peter?

In court, he had to tell
the judge that

he was sorry and he wouldn't
do it anymore.

We have to show the judge
you're serious about this.

Why aren't you ready yet?

I was hoping
that he would realize

that he can't do stuff
like that, and it's not right,

but he just kept
getting worse,

kept getting more violent
and more violent.

Now!

He was becoming
this person that I didn't know.

We tried desperately
to get Peter help.

We had him in
a grief group,

and, um... but that
didn't seem to help.

He just didn't respond
well at all.

I mean, I felt like
I was losing him,

and I didn't know
what to do.

I mean, we thought
we were doing everything

that we could by taking him
to therapy.

But then it just...

steadily got worse.

When Peter was around


he started to get into
his fascination for knives.

He wanted anything sharp.
He had to have something sharp.

At first, he just had a
fascination with little knives.

Then it got to be where

he wanted bigger knives
and bigger knives.

And then he started
sharpening them.

He got his own little
sharpening tool.

He would sit and sharpen
the knives obsessively.

I disagree
that he should be allowed

to have the knives
to begin with,

but his stepfather thought
that it was perfectly manly

for him
to wanna do that.

He used to bring it
closer and closer to me.

"Look at this."

- Watch this.
- And he would, like,

cut a piece of paper in front
of me and stuff like that.

I bled easily,
because I took blood thinners,

and he would be like,

"This would really make you
bleed, wouldn't it, Mom?"

I could cut you
so easily with this knife.

I started getting scared.

Don't you have
schoolwork to do?

Oh, no.

I was always afraid
he was gonna cut me,

and then I would
bleed to death.

Now put it away
and get some work done.

I would say,
"Put them away.

Please. Put them away."

He didn't listen.

You question yourself,
because this is your child,

and your child is not

supposed to do
things like this to you.

And yet he was doing it.

He was... he was... and he would
seem to be enjoying it.

And that was very upsetting.
Very.

You don't want to believe
that it's happening,

and you want to ignore it,
because maybe it'll go away.

Maybe it's just a phase
they're in,

and it's gonna pass.

But unfortunately,
Peter's never passed.

Just kept getting worse
and worse,

and he kept getting in more
trouble and more trouble.

It was almost
like there was

a demonic possession
that came over him.

He took a samurai sword,
and he came after me

with a samurai sword.

I worked at a vet's shop,
and we had so many animals.

He was always so kind to them.

But then, as he got older,
his whole personality changed.

And because Peter
was so volatile,

you never knew
what was gonna come next.

The thing with him and wanting
to cut my dog open...

That will always
stick in my mind.

I'm probably doing laundry
or something like that,

and I thought everything
was fine.

I didn't think there was
a problem going on.

And all of a sudden,
he grabbed my dog.

And took a knife,
a brutally sharp one,

and he held it down at
the bottom of her,

like in her groin.

And he said,
"Just how

easy do you think it would be
for me to just slit her open?"

And my blood ran cold.

You ever seen people
with just mean eyes,

and... and you know that

you don't wanna
go in their space?

Well, that's the way
he would look.

His eyes were glassy
and black,

and... and it was very
frightening, very scary.

He was gonna k*ll her
right there in front of me.

You put her down, now.

I said,
"You put that dog down,

"and if you're smart,
you'll get out of my sight,

you'll stay out of my sight,"

I said, "because you won't live
to make it to the door

if you hurt that dog."

I must have scared him.

I must have had the look,
because he put the dog

down quickly.

Then he'd laugh.

He had a little sicky laugh.

He would just say, you know,
like, "You're overreacting."

- It's not a big deal.
- Get out of my face. Now!

The sad part is Peter was
such a good little boy.

He was a sweetheart.

You're like,
this can't be happening,

not to my child.

My child can't be this way.

But it is happening right
there before your eyes.

It's like he progressively
got worse

and worse and harder
and harder to deal with.

That same day,
right after that happened,

I remember now,
he took a samurai sword

and he came after me
with a samurai sword.

Peter!
Peter!

Peter!

It was almost like there was

a demonic possession
that came over him.

I mean, he was
swinging that thing.

You could hear it going.

And oh, my God,

you have no idea
what it... what that sound is

when it goes past your head,

it's just like
,

and you realize how
sharp that thing is.

I was scared to death.

I thought, "This is it.
I'm getting it now."

Any minute, I'm gonna be...
Blood everywhere.

I picked up a cushion
off the sofa...

and he slit the sofa cushion
almost in half.

That's how sharp
his samurai sword was.

And if I had not taken
the cushion and held it up,

he would have hit me
with a samurai sword.

You can't imagine.

You just can't imagine
what it feels like.

Peter's stepfather was
absolutely useless.

He didn't want
to get involved.

I had to do it
all on my own.

I felt all alone and desperate,
because I had

no one to help me deal
with him.

And that was more
than I could handle.

One thing just led into
the next and the next,

and it just kept getting
worse and worse and worse.

Peter just did things.

He did... you didn't know
why he did things.

He wouldn't tell you
why he did things.

He didn't give you answers.

One day, he put his trash can
right at his door.

And then he was
sitting there,

and he's striking matches and
throwing them into trash can

full of paper.

I said, "Don't do that."

What are you doing?

You could
start a fire.

He taunted me.

"So what if I do?

What are yougonna
do about it?"

I said, "I'm gonna call
the authorities,

"that's what
I'm gonna do about it.

I'm gonna call
the fire marshal."

"Do what you gotta do, mom."

So I did.

They send this woman over,
and that...

He wouldn't talk to
the girl.

She tried so hard, but he was
such an obnoxious little snot.

He was so nasty to her.

So she told him
that she would have

to take him into custody
if he didn't stop.

That got a little bit of
respect out of him.

During that period of time,

Peter's rage towards me
really intensified,

and it never stopped.
Just didn't stop.

That's when
I found the b*ll*ts.

Oh, my.

See the eyes?

The eyes are starting
to get dark.

This is when
he was a teenager.

You can see the darkness
coming in the eyes, the stare.

They could just burn,
like, burn a hole

through you when they were
staring at you.

When he became a teenager,
I started losing him.

This is where he was
becoming uncontrollable.

I found jewelry
and collectibles

and stuff like that.

I was like, "Where is this
stuff coming from?"

And it was coming from
the houses he was robbing.

You get to a point where
you really are scared.

And you also get to a point
where you're pretty fed up.

Mom?

What is this?

I had the police take him right
out of the bathroom one day.

Come on out, put your hands up
against this wall for me.

And he'd be like, "I can't
believe you did this."

Well, I don't approve
of what you're doing.

You won't stop.

I will never forgive you.

It's terrible to have
to turn your own child in.

He went to juvie.

I went to see him
with my mother.

We were supposed to spend
Christmas with him,

and I had taken him presents
and everything.

And we didn't get to do that,
because he went off on us.

There she is,
my mother, the sl*t.

He started when he saw me.

He called me every name in

the book, every kind of
horror imaginable.

And Peter started coming
at me.

I really was scared
for my life.

He's grasping at you,
trying to hit you,

trying to grab you.

And then these guys,
these great big,

burly guys come and have to
pull this kid off of you.

They had to take him out
and restrain him

and give him medication,

because he was going
after me so bad.

It's horrible.
I'm his mother.

I can't imagine being
that angry with my mother.

And he got away with it.
Nobody would help me.

Nobody would put him away
and keep him there

so they could do
something with him.

They kept letting him out early,
and he kept doing,

re-offending, re-offending.

And, uh, I kept trying.

I wasn't giving up on him.

I always thought
that he could be saved.

Um, I prayed
that he would be saved.

I got a phone call at work

that Peter was in
the emergency room.

He... he wasn't hurt, but they
had him in there,

and the State Police
were holding him,

and I was very confused.

I had no idea
what was going on.

The police officer came in
and told me that Peter had this

whole diagram of what he was
gonna do to the school.

He was gonna blow it up.

He had picked out certain
people in

the rooms that he was gonna
blow up.

You're looking at this,
and you're just

in total disbelief
that this is happening.

Is it okay if I speak
with him?

I asked him, I said, you know,
"So what's going on?"

"Oh, mom. You know, just don't
get excited about it, mom,

It's all right, everything's
gonna be all right."

It's not a big deal.

Your heart drops.
Your heart just drops

to your ankles.
It's terrible.

He went to the psych hospital,
and from the psych hospital,

he went to juvie.

After we took care of Peter,

I went home, and I started
looking in his room

to see what else was there.

And the floorboard
was up in his closet,

and I reached in there,
and there was the g*n.

And then I found
the attache case,

and the attache case
obviously had something in it,

because I could hear it
when I shook it.

And that's when
I found the b*ll*ts.

The shotgun shells, and there
were four of them.

One of the b*ll*ts
had "mom" on it.

When I looked at that b*llet
and it said "mom,"

I thought, Oh, my God.
What did I do?

What did I do to him

to make him hate me so much?

What did I do to him

to make him
so vicious and mean?

I didn't know
what to think.

I was scared.

I really didn't know
what to think.

And you question yourself.

You question yourself
over and over again,

because you don't know
what you did wrong.

Why would he want
to k*ll me?

I did everything for him,
and why?

I cried a lot.

It was just so,
so heartbreaking.

I can't take anymore.

He just turned around,
and shoving me against

the refrigerator.

He had just lost control.

He spent 11 months in
a facility

for, um,

aggressive teenagers.

I thought, well, this is
really gonna help.

He was on medication.

I thought,
oh, my God, this is working.

It's gonna work.
Everything's gonna be okay.

He's gonna be acting normal.

Didn't work that way.

I was all excited,
because when he came home,

he looked so good,

and he sounded so good.

And, you know, it was like
having my son back.

He was affectionate.

Oh, it was wonderful.

But it didn't last long.

One day,
I was in the kitchen with him.

Peter, I asked you
to take out the garbage.

I'm not gonna ask you again.

I said something to him...
I don't even know what

I said to him,
and he just turned around

and shoved me
against the refrigerator.

I was very shocked.

He had never put his hands
on me before.

You don't tell me
what to do ever again.

He had just lost control.

You understand me?

He left shortly after that,
and I just went in my room,

stayed away from him
for a while.

I had lost control completely,
because he was

just doing whatever
he wanted to do.

After Peter turned 18,

there was no other place
for him but jail.

He just was in jail
all the time, so, um,

I didn't see him that often.

He would try
and call me collect,

always begging for money
when he was in jail.

I just decided one day
that I had given enough,

and I wasn't gonna
give anymore.

And I stopped receiving
the calls.

And it was relieving.

It was freedom
to be away from it.

When I didn't have to have
contact with him,

it was almost refreshing
that I didn't

have to put up with it
every day.

Hello?

"Hi, Mom.
It's your favorite son, Peter.

How about I come over
for dinner?"

I'm like, what?

I said, "Where are you?"

He said, "I'm right across
the street."

I'm like, aw... God.

You gotta be kidding.

When he came home,
he brought in

g*ns, knives, stun g*ns.

I was like,
"What are you doing?"

No way.

I said, "Oh, no...
No, no, no, no, no.

Out with the g*n."

I said,
"The g*n doesn't stay.

"The knives don't stay,
the tear gas doesn't stay.

"I don't care what
you do with it,

but you get it out of this
house, and you get it out now."

Take them to the car.

I didn't ask him anything,
because knowing Peter,

I knew that he was gonna come
up with some c*ck story,

and I really didn't want to
hear it.

Is everything okay?

After dinner,
Peter started telling me

how he had done something,

something that he could never
get back from.

I said,
"Did you hurt someone?"

And he said yes.

Two men.

And I said, "Did you,
you know, hurt them bad?"

He said, "Well, yes,
I m*rder*d them."

I honestly just
didn't know what to do.

That's not funny.

Then I thought he was lying,
because Peter's notorious for

making up stories,
and I thought, well,

this can't be true.
It just can't.

I can't get the smell
of bleach off of my hands.

He was saying
how he couldn't believe that

it had been so many days
since he had been able

to get rid of the smell
in his nostrils.

Do you smell it?

No.

He never told me
what he actually had done

to those people.

He didn't tell me how he maimed
them, how he slaughtered them,

how he wrapped him in
bleach-covered blankets

after they were dead.

How he shot one in the head
twice and the other 8 times.

He didn't tell me any
of the gruesome facts.

I didn't learn those until
way into the trial.

I couldn't go to sleep.
I just laid there.

I kept thinking
all night long.

I'll be right back.

I have to stop you,

because nobody else seems
to be able to stop you.

So I have got to stop you
before you hurt somebody else.

I honestly don't know
how I got

through that...
The rest of that night,

but the next day,
I asked him,

I said,
"Did you really do that?"

Last night,

were you serious?

"Yes, mom.
I really did it."

"I m*rder*d two people,
and they deserved it."

I said, "What do you
mean, they deserved it?

How could they deserve it?"

I don't know
what I was thinking.

To be honest with you,
I really don't.

All I know is I was so...

emotionally distraught.

I was scared.

I was so scared.

I didn't know what was gonna
happen to me.

I didn't know what
he was capable of.

Where are you going?

I told him that
my friend had called me,

and she needed help.

So then he wanted to know if
I wanted him to go with me.

I said, "Oh, no,
that's all right.

Stay here and relax."

I'll be right back.

Meanwhile, I'm going
to my friend's house,

and that's how I got
out of the house.

And I went to my friend's house,

and we called the police,
and...

they came,
and he gave himself up.

Stephen Adams
and his partner, Kevin Powell,

were found shot to death in
their Wilton Manors home

over Christmas 2010.

Prosecutors say
Avsenew met the couple

after posting a suggestive ad
on Craigslist.

They told me that
the two guys were g*y,

and that that's why
Peter m*rder*d them,

that he had picked them up.

He was soliciting himself
on Craigslist.

He'd been selling himself

to g*y guys.

I still in the back of my mind
was hoping that he was lying.

I was hoping that
this wasn't true.

I kept praying that
it wasn't true, but it was.

Well, I was scared.

I mean, come on.
I was really scared.

I didn't know
whether he was gonna go

off on me and attack me
or what.

I went in, and I said,
"You know, Peter,

"I can't let you do
this anymore.

"I brought you into this world,

"and not to do the things
that you've done.

"I just can't watch
this go on anymore.

"I've got to stop you.

So yeah, I'm turning you in."

And he said,
"It's not your fault."

Well, no,
it wasn't my fault.

I've tried to raise you
the best I could,

and you have rejected me
and rejected me.

I cannot keep beating
my head against the wall.

And I have to stop you,
because nobody

else seems to be able to
stop you.

He said, "Don't worry.
I'm not mad at you."

He said, "I understand."

I started crying.

I couldn't stay in there
with him.

The last thing I said to Peter
before I left him was,

"I love you."

And I said,
"That will never change."

And he said,
"I love you too, mom."

I had nothing to lose.

You g... there is
absolutely nothing

that can hurt me now.

I have no consequences
for my actions,

and I plan on hurting people.

I wholeheartedly
have nothing to lose,

and I'm gonna take it out
on everybody I can.

Peter has never shown
any remorse.

None whatsoever.

If you ask him why he did it,

he said,
"Because they deserved it."

Avsenew sent a letter to
the judge saying in part,

"You will never be able
to stop me."

Then he went on
a bigoted rant,

saying, "It is my duty as
a white man to cull the weak

and tired from existence,"
he continued,

"h*m* are a disease
to mankind

that must be put down."

When it I knew what he
had done, it disgusts me so bad.

I don't have the empathy
for him.

I really don't.

At trial,
the judge asked me,

"Mrs. Avsenew,
what would you do?"

And I said, "Your honor,
I got to say that...

"I can't ask you
for mercy for my son,

"because he doesn't
deserve it.

"He did this.

"He's guilty,

"and he needs to pay.

"And whatever that be,

that has to be up to you."

When the sentence came down,
I was there,

and he did

one of these... pulled over
like he was pulling

a sling or a... a hangman's
noose around his neck.

He went like that to me.

He shot the finger
at the family.

He did it to the judge,
and that's terrible.

He kills their family,
and then he turns around,

and he's gonna sit there
and sh**t the finger at them.

Come on, that's
total disrespect.

He has no respect
for anybody.

- We pray for Peter's mom.
- Yeah, we do.

Because she is really
the one

that allowed Stephen and Kevin
had this justice, too.

- Yeah.
- So we thank Jeanne Avsenew

- for coming forward.
- Our prayers are with her.

I do agree with the judge,

and it's gut-wrenching.

It hurts. It hurts to know
that your son's gonna die.

But he had no right
to take two people's lives.

He has to pay.
He has to give back.

What he did is inexcusable.

Peter has not called me

or spoken to me since
he was sentenced,

because he said that if
I couldn't accept him

and what he did

that I could no longer be
a part of this family.

Let him blame me.
I've had it.

I'm 74 years old.

I don't need this anymore.

He has put me through hell
and back.

And maybe that sounds selfish
on my part,

but my whole life was
dedicated to Peter

and getting Peter
out of jail,

getting Peter out of juvie.

I don't have any time anymore.

I'm used up,
and he's guilty.

If I could speak to him,
I'd tell him I love him.

That's never changing.
He's my son,

and I would tell him that.

But I sure do miss him,
and I sure do miss

trying to talk to him.

I feel so desperately alone.

I lost my best friend.

I just really miss him.

He was my buddy.

We were really close,
I thought.