The Murder of Jeffrey Dryden: The Grim Truth Surrounding Male Domestic Abuse (4 page)

Later on in the day, there was another
Chiquita supporter that went on the offensive by the online name of
“Tiffanyfive.” Tiffany, started calling everyone out by making bold
threats, such as, for example when it came to me and what I was
writing on, she stated that, “TROY VEENSTRA you ned to shut the
HELL UP, you keep talking like that and you gonna get someone at
your door, you know what I mean, you don’t know what happened, you
weren’t there, you can’t back up what you’re saying, it was an
accident, nothing else. I think you can get the picture as to the
kind of person Tiffany was.

Not being the kind of person that backs
down when called out or to run away from an argument, I wrote back
stating:

“
I can say whatever I want
to... thankfully it’s not up to me, it’s up to the court system...
and looking at previous case law that covers this topic, it’s a
good 30 year sentence... she’s lucky as if it were up to our
family, we would be voting for Michigan to become a death penalty
state again... In addition, I did a criminal background check to
back up what I have said. That said, Tiffanyfive I would expect
nothing more from you and your family to come to her aid, you’re
her family... if the situation was reversed, you would be demanding
his head ... and we would be defending him. it’s just that
simple... family is supposed to stand by each other and that is
what our family is doing right now as too is yours. I feel no ill
will towards you or other members of your family (I admit that as
time wore on and ignorance kept flowing, my lack of ill-will faded
to a degree) with the exception of your cousin. Sad as it is, even
if she were to not be charged with this crime, she would still be a
murderer in our eyes, it’s just how it is, no matter what you say
to us, no matter what you want us to think, that's just the way
it’s going to be and nothing will probably ever change
that.”

Somehow she took the whole, “demanding
his head,” thing as a racial comment, as after that she started
using a lot of racial slurs herself, stating that I should feel
embarrassed for attacking her and her family because of their race
and color. Trying to put a quick end to the whole, “racial
comments,” I responded back stating: “Tiff I have nothing to be
ashamed of... also you’re the only one bringing race into this...I
never said anything about color in any of my post previous or
otherwise. I said what I said because any family would feel that
way; this has absolutely nothing to do with race, color, or
creed.”

During this back and forth argument
between the bulk of Chiquita’s online family and myself. Kristen
Woudstra, a friend of Jeff’s added more information backing up much
of what I had already quantified, Kristen stated:

“
RIP Jeff you will always
be in my heart! It’s amazing how some people act on here, Jeff was
a wonderful amazing person! I cannot wait for her day in court, she
will get her justice, and everyone can have some peace. And yes I
know I wasn’t there blah blah blah. He was one of my best friends
and I will always miss him. Stupid people deserve what they get! Oh
and by the way the past violence was not against him.”

A person going by the name Nick Slater
stated: “You know your right i wasn't around 24/7. But I saw him at
least 5 days a week for the past 5 years, so i think that’s pretty
close to 24/7. And just because i wasn't there for what happened
dosn't change what i know about your cousin. I know that she was
the one that just got off probation for that last domestic that she
got. Moreover, i know that your cousin was a bit** to Jeff. He
repeatedly told me that the only time she gave two shits about him
was the week he got paid. By the way does anybody feel dumber after
attempting to read that stuff below?”

With that, part 2 of the posting wars
ended, but by no means was the battle over. There was more to say
and more to add the next day, when the Wyoming Police Department
reported to the press that they had placed formal charges of Murder
in the 2nd degree on Chiquita Fizer; the posting wars were far, far
from being resolved.

CHAPTER 4:

WINTER 2009

“
It was six or seven months
later when Jeff finally had enough and went to meet Chiquita for
what he thought would be the last time.”
Jason stated, “
Jeff had enough of
her constant begging him for money or other things and just wanted
to move on, however, when he went to go see her that night, he
learned what she had truly been planning all along,”
Jason said.

Apparently, through the months of their
weekly encounters, Chiquita had been taking notes of everything
Jeff let slip whenever they were together, things such as telling
her where he worked and how well he was paid, telling her about his
past with the law and his two charges of possession. Allowing her
to see him rolling up and smoking a joint just after sex, as well
as admitting to her that Marijuana was his chosen addiction, and
how he secretly feared every day at work, that someone might rat
him out as being a user, or worse, the idea of spending the rest of
his life in jail.

Sadly, Jeff either forgot or didn’t
know that men are very trusting after sexual intercourse due to the
endorphins of euphoria running through their body and mind shortly
after an orgasm or ejaculation. Both men and women share this
commonality, as an orgasm (or ejaculation) is similar, having the
same effects on the body as the use of marijuana and other similar
illegal drugs, just not having the same long-term side-effects on
the body.

As such, while in that state of
overwhelming bliss and/or euphoria, Jeff allowed himself to slip,
allowed himself to trust, dropping his defenses, and shared such
information with the proverbial black widow, the woman that would
take advantage of him with all her womanly attributes, threats and
even blackmail.

Thus, that night that Jeff went to go
see Chiquita to break off the sex only relationship, she threatened
him with the truth. Telling Jeff she had grown tired of living with
her mother and wanted to move out and that he was going to move in
with her, he was going to take care of her.

He would do all this and more while she
stayed home and did whatever she wanted to. From time-to-time, she
would be there for him to love physically. Allowing both of them to
feed their own sexual beasts, but if he ever decided to leave her,
to abandon her she would be forced to call his employer and let
them know all about his yearning addiction and perhaps, if need be,
even inform the cops of his stash.

In Jeff’s mind, this threat was grim.
“He worried about his two previous possession charges and how the,
‘Three Strikes Law,” would send him to jail for the rest of his
life or at the very least he would lose his job and be unable to
get another one” Jason stated. “Chiquita took full advantage of
this fear every time she beat him, every time he got it in him to
leave only to be shot down time and time again.” He
added.

Though I could understand Jeff’s fear
about losing his job, the one thing that I found sadder than
anything else was his fear of the Three Strikes Law. There were
several things that I found quite disturbing when I heard this from
Jason, several thoughts which ran through my mind that really made
me depressed.

The first thought was that the Three
Strikes Law only applied to convicted Felonies of VIOLENT crime,
the personal use of Marijuana is a misdemeanor charge not a felony,
thus, the Three Strikes Law does not apply. The same is true with
Possession of Marijuana though there is Jail time of up to a year
with this charge it again would not enact the Three Strikes
Law.

Furthermore, and even more sad is that
the “Three Strikes Law,” is not practiced in the state of Michigan
and thus even if Jeff’s previous charges were Felony charges, he
wouldn’t go to jail for life if Chiquita called the cops and told
them he was using it for his personal use. Sadly Jeff’s fear was a
fear based, and produced from the ideals and “truth” brought about
by a Mediated Culture.

CHAPTER 5:

JULY 20, 2010

The Long Gaze

Around 11 am the next morning, I found
myself standing with my mother on the porch of her house. Oddly,
though it was Tuesday, the neighborhood seemed quiet, almost
surreal.

If ever there was a time in my life
that I thought her smoking was a good thing, it was at that very
moment, as it was quite apparent she hadn’t slept due to the events
of the previous day and that the stress of it all was breaking her
down both physically and emotionally.

Looking at her face as she continued to
gaze out across the street, I could see a slight redness in her
eyes. The resonance of tears continuously being shed; a slight,
abrasive, almost crackling of her voice as she spoke, a sign of
sorrow in her heart, which continued to build deep
inside.

“
Have a rough day?” I asked
being my sarcastic self. “Yesterday,” she spoke softly as she gazed
at the empty house across the street, her eyes not really fixed on
anything noticeable, anything direct. “Yesterday we went to order
the coffin for Jeff… needless to say Paula didn’t take it well… but
what mother would, what parent would in the same situation?” She
asked, not really expecting an answer to her question as she took a
long drawn out inhale on her cigarette, allowing the smoke flavored
nicotine to reach deep inside, filling her with the fix, the
trivial want of ease she needed at that moment.

“
That girl… that girl needs
to pay for what she’s done… all the pain she’s caused,” she hissed
only to hush her words, stopping mid-thought as if trying to force
herself not dwell on such things, at least not for the time
being.

“
Later that day… after…,”
she paused, tears washing down the side of her face. Bathing her
cheeks with sadness, “Later that day I went over their pictures,
picking out those to use for the poster and the memorial viewing.”
She wept softly. “I had forgotten so much about them when they were
little,” the smoke bellowing from her mouth before taking a deep
breath of fresh air.

“
I forgot… when they slept,
how Jeff always had his mouth open. How when they were together
they always seemed to do things as one mind.” She hissed, her voice
crackling with unrelenting sorrow and feeling. “Or how… when they
smiled up at the camera, you could feel the warmth of their joy,
their love through the picture,” She sighed. “It’s funny how you
forget the little things about someone, how they seem to fade over
time, only to come back to you when they’re gone,” she
said.

“
So odd,” she added, taking
another deep drag of her cigarette, once more, gazing out across
the street, her eyes fixated on the distant past, images, memories
feathering through her mind… I could see it all as I stood there
with her, by her side.

I could almost feel her every thought
as she stood in utter silence, breathing. Each breath acting like a
drawn out fight to hold back the tears, the sadness, the emotion
everyone was feeling, the breaking of our hearts over our fallen
friend, nephew, cousin, brother… son.

Family Values

“
I’m going back inside and
finish my coffee,” she said as she took a final inhale of her
cigarette, slowly exhaling the smoke from her lungs as if enticed
by the sensation, the relief of pent up stress. Following her into
her house, I saw Eric sitting at the dining room table eating away
on some eggs and bacon.

“
You want some chief,” Jim,
our stepfather, asked as he walked out of the kitchen, “No… I’m
good, thanks,” I said sitting down in the older, broken chair next
to Eric. “She didn’t drag him down the steps as we were first
told,” mom said as she placed her cup to her mouth, taking in the
sweetened tang of her hazelnut coffee. “Though it sounds like she
didn’t do much of anything to help, except tell the neighbors that
he was drunk and came at her with the knife,” She added, suddenly
reaching for the phone as it began to ring. “Hello?” she said with
the same crackle in her voice, the same rough coarseness as she
walked out of the dining room and quickly into the other
room.

“
I imagine it’s been
ringing a lot today huh?” I asked Eric, as I looked towards him,
“How are you doing by the way?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he said
openly, “I don’t think its hit me just yet,” he added. “I feel off…
as if a part of me has been cut away,” he said, driving his fork
into his scrambled eggs.

“
To be honest Eric, I don’t
think the reality of it is going to hit anyone right away, not
until we see him in a few days,” I said. It was then that mom came
out of the bedroom, slamming the phone down almost breaking it.
“They took some of his stuff,” she said, a stream of anger mixed
with rage tearing through her voice.

“
What?” I asked not
catching on right away to what she was saying. “Chiquita’s family,
they got into the apartment and took some of Jeff’s stuff.” She
said. “How,” I paused for a moment not sure how that was even
possible, “How… it’s a damn crime scene, if it hasn’t been cleared
then they can be easily arrested for that,” I said. “Paula said
that the detective is not happy about it but apparently they got
the key from the guy that was renting them the apartment and they
came in early this morning and took the bulk of his stuff,” she
said. The hatred and anger in her voice growing more and more as
she spoke.