reporting.”
When the reporter signed off, the picture returned to the studio anchor. “In the past eleven months, sixteen cases of alleged domestic violence have resulted in death. Because the accused is a well-known and widely respected college professor, the Norton homicide is the most high-profile of all those cases. Later in this news-cast, Jill January will take us to a candlelight vigil that is being held on the steps of the capitol building this evening to focus attention on this increasingly difficult issue. In other news tonight . . .”
With lightning fingers running the remote control, Jenny fast-forwarded the video through weather and sports, stopping only when Jill January’s smiling face reappeared on the screen.
“The crime of domestic violence is spiraling in Phoenix just as it is in other parts of the country. Domestic violence was once thought to be limited to lower-class households. Increasingly, however, authorities are finding that domestic violence is a crime that crosses all racial and economic lines. Victims and perpetrators alike come from all walks of life and from all educational levels. Often, the violence escalates to the point of serious injury or even death. So far this year, sixteen area women have died as a result of homicidal violence in which the prime suspects have all turned out to be either current or former spouses or domestic partners.
“Tonight a group called MAVEN—Maricopa Anti-Violence Empowerment Network—is doing something to address that problem. At a chilly nighttime rally on the capitol steps in downtown Phoenix this evening, domestic violence activist Matilda Hirales-Steinowitz read the deadly roll.”
The tape switched to the podium onstage at the candlelight vigil, where the spokeswoman fro MAVEN stepped forward to intone the names the victims. “The first to die, at three o’clock on afternoon of January third, was Anna Maria Dominguez, age twenty-six.”
Again, the reporter’s face appeared on-screen. “Anna Maria Dominguez was childless when she died as a result of a shotgun blast to the face. Her unemployed husband then turned the gun on himself. He died at the scene. She died a short time later after undergoing surgery at a local hospital.
“Often, however, when domestic violence ends in murder, children of the dead women become: victims as well.”
“Get ready,” Jenny warned Cecelia. “Here you come.”
Ceci Grijalva’s wide-eyed face filled the screen. Her voice, trembling audibly, whispered through he television set’s speakers. “I have a little brother . . .” she began.
Joanna turned away from the televised Cecelia to watch the live one. When tears spilled over on the little girl’s cheeks, Joanna moved to the couch and placed a comforting arm around Ceci’s narrow shoulders.
“.. he cries anyway, and I can’t make him stop. That’s all,” Cecelia finished saying on-screen while the child on the couch sobbed quietly, her whole body quaking under the gentle pressure of Joanna’s protective arm.
“They wanted me to say something nice about my mom,” Ceci said, her voice choking. “But when I got there, all I could think about was Pepe.”
“You did fine,” Joanna said.
“Nana Duffy says it’s my daddy’s fault, that he did it, but I don’t think so. Do you?” Ceci looked questioningly up at Joanna through tear-dewed eyelashes. Joanna wanted to comfort the grieving child, but what could she tell her?
Torn between what she knew and what could say, “I don’t know” was Joanna’s only possible answer.
“And now here’s my mom,” Jenny said.
The camera on Joanna and Leann making their way through the crowd.
“ .. police officers in attendance,” Jill January was saying “Cochise County Sheriff Joanna Brady.”
