Repeat DV offenders demean, brutalize victims; frustrate judges (Columbus, Ohio)

Part III from a series in the Columbus [Ohio] Dispatch. The series is entitled Domestic Silence: The truth about abuse in Ohio. Parts I and II were posted yesterday.

http://www.dispatch.com/live/content/local_news/stories/2009/11/17/DV_Sentencing.ART0_ART_11-17-09_A1_4IFMTII.html

DISPATCH INVESTIGATION
Serial batterers
Repeat domestic-violence offenders demean and brutalize victims while frustrating judges
Tuesday, November 17, 2009 3:04 AM
By Mike Wagner, Jill Riepenhoff and Stephanie Czekalinski

The beatings began weeks into their 15-year relationship, and the scars endure.

He punched her.

Then choked her.

He sliced her with a knife and asked her repeatedly if she wanted to die.

He poured urine on her.

When she once tried to outrun his rage by racing to the roof, she slid off and crashed to the ground.

Yet last year, she swore under oath that the bruises depicted in photos were not inflicted by her longtime boyfriend.

Despite a mountain of evidence -- Joyce Ratliff's frantic call to 911, testimony from police all too familiar with the couple, and Mark S. New's lengthy record of abuse -- he walked away from the 2008 felony trial a free man.

The case against him collapsed when Ratliff changed her story at the trial. She said the injuries were inflicted by someone else, which she now admits was a lie.

"I told her, 'Eventually, he's going to kill you. Then you can't recant,' " said Dan Hawkins, an assistant Franklin County prosecutor who heads the domestic-violence unit in Prosecutor Ron O'Brien's office. "I knew she was going to get beat up again."

She did, a month after the trial, and then again in May 2008.

Her latest beating came last month on her birthday, when New hit her in the head for singing a love song.

New is a serial batterer, one of many men who are repeatedly arrested and cycled through the justice system for domestic abuse.

He admits to abusing Ratliff but says it is not always his fault.

A Dispatch investigation found that at least 35 men like New in Franklin County have been charged at least five times on domestic-violence-related charges since 2000 but have spent little time behind bars.

Collectively, the 35 men have racked up 297 domestic-violence-related cases and 176 convictions. Yet, on average, they each have spent a little less than two weeks in jail per conviction.

That's according to a Dispatch analysis of their cases filed in Franklin County municipal and common pleas courts -- the same records that paint a picture of a legal system that shuffles habitual abusers back onto the streets.

A deeper analysis of these 35 cases shocks even those familiar with the domestic-violence world:
• In a fifth of the cases, the men pleaded guilty to lower-level crimes. For example, felonies were dropped to misdemeanors and first-degree misdemeanors were dropped to crimes with penalties equal to traffic tickets.

• About 40 percent of the charges against those men were dismissed. Only one man has been convicted each time he was charged. He has eight convictions.

• In nearly two-thirds of the cases, the men spent no time in jail or prison after they were convicted. They walked away from the guilty findings free men.

• The oldest abuser is 57. He has been charged 11 times in the past nine years. The three youngest are 24 -- two of them have been charged six times; the other, seven.

"I'm astounded by these numbers," said Karen S. Days, president of the Columbus Coalition Against Family Violence. "I'm astounded by these 35 men. It sets us back."

The prosecutors and judges who are trying to lock up habitual abusers share a frustration that is a byproduct of emotionally-tormented victims: Sometimes, the victims simply won't testify.

Some fear retaliation. Others are convinced that they deserved the abuse, and that they should accept the blame. Still others rely financially on their abusers and cannot afford to have them in jail and out of work.

But without victims' support, judges' hands are often tied.

Municipal court judges have handled more than 70 percent of the cases involving the 35 repeat offenders. In more than a quarter of the cases, the defendant pleaded to a lower-level crime.

Several judges say that prosecutors, fearing the victims will recant their stories, often must reduce charges to win convictions, which limits the possible sentences.

Even in a strong case, the maximum sentence for a first-time abuser in Ohio is 180 days. But some judges say that maximum jail time is not a solution. Some prefer to give shorter jail sentences but longer probations to keep a closer watch over abusers.

"It's just so messy. There's no easy answer, no cookie-cutter solutions," said Carrie Glaeden, a municipal court judge. "You can't blame the victims, but we need them to follow through."

Victim advocates argue that victims have reason to be afraid, because if they testify against their abusers, the system offers them little protection by allowing the abusers out of jail so quickly.

"No wonder they keep doing it," said Nancy Neylon, executive director of the Ohio Domestic Violence Network. "If you engage in a criminal act and don't get time, you continue to do it."

Consider the crimes and punishments from the case files of Franklin County's worst batterers:

• Punched his girlfriend, smashed a beer bottle over her head and slammed a car door on her hand. Convicted: 77 days in jail.

• Violated a protection order by contacting the victim and then seven days later wrote on her door: "Will kill you by Friday Bitch." Convicted: 65 days in jail.

• Threatened to shoot the victim and her children if she put him in jail by filing domestic-violence complaint. Convicted: 15 days in jail.

• Hit girlfriend in head with coffee mug, punched and kicked her in the face. Convicted: no post-conviction jail time.

• Dragged his wife by her hair and bit her on the cheek. Convicted: no post-conviction jail time.

• Slammed his girlfriend against the wall, grabbed her by throat, grabbed a knife and said, "I'm going to eliminate you." Convicted: no post-conviction jail time.

• Kicked in the front door of the victim's house, disabled her telephone, chased her outside and threw a cement block at her. Case dismissed for lack of evidence.

• Choked the mother of his children, pinned her to the ground by kneeling on her arms, struck her in the jaw with an open hand and repeatedly slammed her head into the ground. Case dismissed.

• Held a butcher's knife in front of his father's face and said, "I am going to kill you." Case dismissed.

"You do get tired of seeing the same faces down here," said Municipal Court Judge H. William Pollitt Jr., who has handled more of the 35 repeat-offender cases than any other Franklin County judge. "Just putting them in prison is not the answer. Just putting them back on the street isn't the answer, either. Probation and treatment aren't the answers either, but they are (typically) better than the first two."

Pollitt said he understands why some criticize the lack of jail time for repeat offenders.

"I don't have a problem with people taking a look at me," he said. "I know what it looks like. I call them the way I see them. If someone has a problem with it, I can take it. I'm a big boy."

The same sentencing problems exist for judges in felony cases.

Common Pleas Judge David Cain has been on the bench for nearly 23 years and has seen domestic violence mushroom into the tragedy that it is today.

He can rattle off cases from across two decades. In one, he agreed to treatment for an abuser, who went to a counseling session and beat his girlfriend again the next day. In another, a man poured gasoline on a woman's bed and stood by flicking a lighter as she awoke, threatening to set her on fire.

Another man stabbed a girlfriend's mother, stripped and bound both the mother and the girlfriend, then beat them. Cain told that batterer, "I hope you die in prison," and gave him 48 years to think about that.

"I believe in two kinds of prison sentences -- short ones, to give someone a wake-up call, and then long if they are a real danger to society," Cain said. "I'm not perfect. I have had people on probation come back and end up right back in court. I despise these men who beat up women and children."

Cain might have been able to help Joyce Ratliff escape Mark New. But she looked Cain in the eye and lied about how she was injured last year.

Most victims and batterers refuse to discuss their cases, preferring to hide details of the abuse as a private, family matter. But Ratliff, 41, and her boyfriend, New, 40, opened up about their troubled history. Since 2000, New has spent 455 days in jail on six convictions -- about 1,200 days less than he could have received with maximum sentences on original charges. Court records show that he has been arrested a dozen times on domestic-violence charges, but New said the number is higher.

Many of his light sentences, prosecutors say, have stemmed from Ratliff's unwillingness to follow through.

The couple remains together, living on the West Side. They do not have children together. She has a grown son from a previous relationship. Her youngest son, William, committed suicide four years ago -- likely fallout from the couple's fighting, Ratliff said.

New is a construction worker; Ratliff draws disability from injuries relating to her abuse. She soon will undergo back surgery to repair vertebrae ruined by New's kicks over the years.

They spoke separately for this story. New talked about his abusive past just before a recent court hearing, where he faced misdemeanor drug charges. Ratliff sat on the couple's front porch that same day and sobbed on and off for more than a half-hour about the violence.

Their story provides a rare glimpse inside a family shattered by domestic violence. New and Ratliff typify the worst cases.

How would you describe the abuse in your home?

Her words: It's happened probably over 50 times. I just don't report it all. Black eyes, he has grabbed from here (motioning around her neck) and slammed me on the ground. He has kicked at me when I am down. He has punched me. Hit me with objects. This right here is where he hit me with a curtain rod years ago. I have had four broken ribs a couple times. He has popped my knee out and tore my ACL, and I have to get surgery on my back.

His words: She knows how to push my buttons and get me going. When I do strike her or something like that, it is usually in the heat of the argument when she is throwing something at me. I will be like, "Oh, dammit," then I throw something against the wall and it hits her. I don't mean it, but it happens. Or she gets up in my face and I push her away, and she falls and stumbles into something or she hits her head or something. It's the heat of the moment; it's not planned or anything like that. She knows a lot of it is her fault, too.

Why do you stay in an abusive relationship?

Her words: I have asked myself that so many times. I don't know why I stay. The only thing I keep coming up with is that he has no family, no one else but me. Part of it is me not wanting him to abandon me, which I know is crazy, considering what he does to me. I got nowhere else to go, you know? I just want to be a family. I'm on a fixed income and everything. I can't just pack up. My grandbabies call him Grandpa. I just want to be a family.

His words: Most of my family has passed away, and the only person I have is Joyce. When I'm in jail, she is the only contact I have to bring me money or talk on the phone. We always say we are sorry for what we have done, that we won't do that again and we are back to being nice to each other again. She says it is going to be this way and stay this way, but it never does. I am a glutton for punishment, I guess.

Who is to blame?

Her words: I do feel like I deserve it. I do feel that way. I feel like I wasn't a good mother and haven't been a good person. He always says everything is my fault. It's my fault. It's always my fault, according to him. I can't do anything right.

It's not always my fault. It's not. I do say things back to him, but it doesn't give him the right to put his hands on me.

His words: There have probably been five or six times where it's been my fault. It wasn't my fault the other times. She knows the system, knows how to manipulate people, knows how to cry to the cops.

What can be done to help stop the abuse?

Her words: Jail isn't the answer for these guys. The worst beating I got was after Mark was in jail the longest. They come out even harder. He and these other guys need programs that can get them help -- programs that can deal with all that anger.

His words: I don't know the other guys' situations, but if it's anything like mine, when you have more than one arrest, the cops come out and don't listen to you anymore. They just put the cuffs on you and throw you in the back of the car.

There needs to be some kind of change in the law to (stop) that. There needs to be something done for us guys.

Do you have regrets?

Her words: My baby died at age 18. He shot himself and a lot of it had to do with Mark and I fighting all the time. We (William and Joyce) argued.... He said FU and I said FU back, and those are the last words I said to him. I picked this guy over my son. I did.

His words: It's a bad thing. It's not something I am proud of or enjoy taking credit for or anything like that. A lot of times, alcohol is involved. I can't use that as an excuse. I feel bad about it.