They drove about ten minutes into town, to the new condos facing Lake Erie. It was a mile or so from Elizabeth’s old apartment building. The flashing lights lit up the night sky and memories of moments past flickered through her mind. Seriously? Elizabeth and Martinez met up with the officer standing next to his cruiser. Officer Lucas shook his head and greeted Martinez with dissonance. “Detective, I don’t believe we asked for assistance in this matter.”
“You did not, Lucas. Just giving the lady a ride. You did call in a request for an advocate, did you not?”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Lucas refused to question authority. “Yep, sure did.”
“Well, I’m just giving your victim advocate a ride here. You gotta problem with that?”
“Notta one.”
“So, can you tell me what’s going on, Officer Lucas?” asked Elizabeth.
Lucas glanced at Martinez, as if for approval, before continuing. “Got a call about twenty minutes ago. Female was distraught, asking for help, before the line went dead. It was a landline so dispatch was able to get a location. Seems husband and wife had an argument/altercation before husband decided to rip the phone out of the wall. Hence, here we are.” Glancing at his notes he continued, “Husband is a Brandon DeFranco, wife is Pamela DeFranco. Officer Duval is speaking with the husband over there. Wife, Pamela, is upstairs in Unit 202 waiting for an advocate. She refuses to speak with us. You’re on, Miss Strong.”
Elizabeth walked up the stairs into the second floor lobby. She had not been in the old factory since they renovated and built the condos. Wow, she thought, they really went all out. I wonder how much they get for these. The door to the DeFranco residence was wide open and the light shone through into the dim hallway. Knocking on the door with her knuckles, she called out into the foyer, “Mrs. DeFranco? I’m Elizabeth Strong, the advocate you asked for. Can I come in?”
She hesitated a moment before knocking again. “Mrs. DeFranco? Hello?” An average looking woman with shoulder-length brown hair turned around the corner to the edge of the foyer, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. She reminded Elizabeth of a teacher she had in high school.
“Mrs. DeFranco? Is it okay to come in?”
The woman didn’t speak. She turned away and walked into the living room, slowly sitting down on the sofa. Assuming it was an invitation, Elizabeth walked in and sat down across from her in a leather recliner.
“My name is Elizabeth Strong. I’m a victim advocate with the Annapolis County Prosecutor’s Office. I’m here to help in any way I can. Can you start by telling me what happened?”
Mrs. DeFranco was shaking slightly. To steady herself, she placed her elbows on her knees, and cupped her hands to her chin. Looking up to the high ceiling, tears welled up in the woman’s eyes again as she periodically wiped her nose with a crumpled up tissue.
“Brandon and I have been married almost five years now. We’re trying to have a baby.” She sighed and a tear streamed down her right cheek. Her hands waved out beside her face. “I’m not quite sure when everything became so difficult!”
“Mrs. DeFranco, take your time.”
She toughened up a bit and said, “Can you please call me Pam? It’s hard enough having all these strangers in my home due to all of this.”
Elizabeth looked around the condo, noticing the Wok full of rice, vegetables, and meat, now strewn all over the sink and the cordless phone laying on the floor. It was apparent the phone dock had been ripped from its cord, which was still plugged into the wall, and the small table it sat on was toppled over.
Pam noticed Elizabeth’s wondering eyes. She walked into the kitchen and started cleaning up the mess. “I made dinner. I usually don’t do it much. He works a lot. Tonight, I expected him to come home earlier than he had. Unfortunately, he had a bad day and didn’t feel much like eating. Of course, that led to an instant argument. I got upset with him and I threw it the sink. Immature, I know.” She steadied herself on the counter and shook her head. “It just escalated from there. I said some things I shouldn’t have and he just went off. He’s been a little unsteady lately and I shouldn’t have badgered him.” Giving up on cleaning she tossed the pan back into the sink and began crying again.
“Whatever you said to him did not give him the right to make you fear for your safety. Especially not so much that you called the police for help.”
After rinsing off her hands, she grabbed the dishtowel dangling from the oven handle. “So what happens now? I mean, God, what a mess I’ve created!”
It was a typical reaction, which Elizabeth was used to: Denial that there was a problem and regret for asking for help. “Pam, this wasn’t your fault. The officers are downstairs with him. They are waiting on us. Either way, they will take him in and process him. Then there will be an arraignment Monday morning.”
“But what if that isn’t what I want?”
“Your husband disrupted a public service. When someone rips the phone out of the wall in the middle of a cry for help that is a crime. At this point neither one of you has a choice. So, you can either follow them to the station and wait for him to get an OR bond, or you can tell me you want a temporary protection order and he will not be allowed to return home for a while. Sometimes a period of cooling off is helpful. It can at least let you sort some things out, quietly,
