Photos courtesy of Tom Jenz and Audrey's family
Carrie Scott Haney and her husband Reco Haney (left); Audrey “Tu Tu” Scott (right)
October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Domestic violence affects millions of every race, religion, culture and status. It’s not just punches and black eyes. It can also be yelling, humiliation, stalking, manipulation, coercion, threats and isolation. Or stealing a paycheck, keeping tabs online, perpetual texting, the silent treatment, or even calling the victim “stupid” so often they believe it.
Which leads me to ask this question? What kind of judicial system do we have where violent criminals are repeatedly released, only to do harm again? Too often it’s the innocent that suffer. Here are some Milwaukee stories that illustrate the problem.
Loss of a Daughter
Carrie Scott Haney and her husband Reco Haney grew up in the central city and now lead productive lives. Carrie is a construction carpenter and Reco is a long-haul semi-truck driver.
In the summer of 2017, their 28-year old daughter, Audrey “Tu Tu” Scott, was shot and killed by Sammy Miller, her ex-boyfriend. Audrey was the mother of two little children when, in 2016, she became reacquainted with Miller. They had been classmates at North Division High School. He reached out to her on Facebook. They started dating, and they fell in love.
Audrey’s mother, Carrie, told me, “Like most narcissistic stories, everything was beautiful at the beginning. Sammy doted on her, gave her gifts and romantic attention, and then they moved in together. Before long, he was hitting and abusing her. But she hid it from her children and kept it from us. From the start, I didn’t like him.”
As time went on, Sammy became even more abusive, but Audrey still did not share her suffering with her parents. Finally, in the spring of 2017, she left Miller, moved in with her parents and told them about his violent behavior. They welcomed her back.
Reco said, “She felt bad about hiding it from us. He’d kept everything of hers, her money, birth certificates, car title, important documents.” Carrie added, “Tu Tu said she felt like a failure, and she was tired of starting over. She wanted to get her belongings back. On July 3, 2017, she met Sammy at McGillycuddy’s on Water Street. They started fighting. He finally left the bar, but we later found out she stayed there by herself for a while. Then, she just disappeared. Nobody spoke to her that night. He must have tracked her down, and he took her phone.”
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Justice Unserved?
It later came out that with the help of his friend, Larry Brown, Miller took Audrey near the Apple Holler orchard in Racine County, brutally beat her, then shot and killed her. He left her body there in the woods. It was July 4, 2017.
Miller was convicted and sent to prison for life plus five years. His accomplice received no prison time. Sammy had told his aunt about the murder, and she tried to cover it up by burning his bloody shoes. The aunt received no punishment. At the time of the murder, Miller was an ex-felon. He had previously murdered someone in a robbery gone wrong, but was released from prison after only eight years. When he killed Audrey, he was violating parole but had never been returned to prison. He was also a member of a violent Milwaukee gang, the Burleigh Zoo.
Reco Haney told me, “The blood of Audrey Scott is on the Wisconsin Justice System.”
Loss of Another Daughter
Photos courtesy of Tom Jenz and Sesalie's family
Teresita Johnson (left) and her daughter Sesalie Dixon (right)
If this wasn’t enough tragedy for one family, Carrie Scott Haney’s aunt also lost a daughter to domestic violence. At Carrie’s suggestion, I called her aunt, Teresita Johnson. Teresita’s daughter, Sesalie Dixon, had been murdered by her boyfriend in Fox Lake, Wis. on Dec. 3, 2016. That was only seven months before her cousin Audrey was murdered. The killer was Laverne Ware, Jr., Sesalie’s domestic partner. Sesalie was 27 when she met her fate.
Teresita told me, “Laverne shot Sesalie in the head three times and left her body in his garage for 18 hours, her head between her legs.” In a cruel twist of irony, Laverne Ware, Jr. was also Teresita’s nephew through marriage. She later found out that long before the murder, her nephew, Laverne, had been pistol whipping her daughter, Sesalie.
“But the violence was not only physical but mental and emotional,” said Teresita. “He monitored her every move, even checked her phone. She kept the violence from me. I just wish she’d told me. I always told my children that you can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. Why did Sesalie stay with him? She must have thought she could fix him. That can happen with domestic violence victims.”
There had been previous abuse. At 18, Sesalie was married and living in Dallas. Her husband had been abusing her, but Teresita and her other daughter helped get her out of there and back to Milwaukee.
I asked, “What happened to Laverne? What was his punishment?” Teresita said, “He’s in prison now and serving a 79-year term. His mother actually covered up his crime, and she’s also serving time.”
l was thinking it is unfortunate that so many mothers will still support a child gone bad. Maybe it’s instinct, or worse, guilt.
The Father
But what about the fathers of abuse victims? How do they fit in? “Who is Sesalie’s dad?” I asked.
“Stanley Johnson,” she said. “I left Stanley after he broke my jaw when I was 14 weeks pregnant with Sesalie. I had just turned 28, and I ended up in the hospital on Easter Sunday, 37 stitches in my face. That was in 1988, I think. For me to have survived domestic violence and then to lose my own daughter to violence is heartbreaking. Sesalie had been the nucleus of our family. She kept us together. Now my other daughter Stephanie is a heroin addict, and my son is on parole for committing some foolish little minor act.”
Teresita was crying, and I waited while she recovered. Finally, she said, “At the time Stanley broke my jaw, he’d been on parole after serving five and a half years for bank robbery. I actually had defended his ass at the parole board hearing. I could’ve had him locked up for nine years. But that’s what domestic violence does to a woman. She thinks she can fix her abuser, but you can’t fix a narcissist. I got rid of him with a restraining order after he broke my jaw.”
The Mother
Teresita is now 57 and lives alone on disability. She is still suffering terrible grief and bouts of anxiety. She goes to counseling, sees a psychiatrist and takes medication. She also has high blood pressure. She said, “My condition is the result of the domestic violence I’ve seen in my family.” She was crying again, her voice cracking. “You know, the last words Sesalie said to me were, ‘But Mama, I need you.’ We were talking on the phone.”
Teresita paused to let her emotions roll by. Then, “Domestic violence is horrible. I’ve experienced both ends, as a survivor and as a victim. I never told my daughters or son about my own abuse. I wish I had. Nowadays, I try to advise women who have been abused to educate their children about domestic abuse. You know, I no longer have children at home, but I have two dogs, and they give me love.”
