| In The News
This really couldn't happen to me
By CYNTHIA McCORMICK
STAFF WRITER
CAPE COD TIMES, APRIL 11, 2007
Until she showed up in court, in handcuffs, with bruises
distorting her face, Dr. Ann Marie Gryboski didn't fit many people's
image of a victim of domestic battery.
A medical doctor with a bustling practice, blonde pageboy hairstyle
and a nice house in Barnstable, Gryboski struck people as the kind
of middle-aged professional who had it all together.
''She's the best doctor I've ever had in my entire life,”
said Jean Healy of Harwich. She couldn't believe it when Gryboski
was arrested on charges of shooting her allegedly abusive husband,
Patrick Lancaster, Sunday.
''When I saw her face on the news, I cried like a baby,” Healy
said. ''God knows what any of us would do in this situation.”
Professionally accomplished, middle-class victims don't ''fit the
myth about what domestic violence is,” said Lysetta Hurge-Putnam,
executive director of Independence House, a Cape Cod nonprofit that
offers counseling and other services to victims of domestic abuse.
''Research of the past 20 years shows battery - domestic violence
- can happen to anyone, any woman of any socio-economic status or
race,” she said.
On Nantucket, a former boyfriend will be tried in June for the stabbing
murder of Manhattan businesswoman Elizabeth Lochtefeld. She was
found dead in her cottage days after breaking off their relationship.
There are indications that middle- and upper-income women are less
likely to seek the assistance of battered women's services, advocates
for battered women say.
According to police and court officials, Gryboski had never called
police or filed a restraining order against Lancaster, whom she
claims abused her physically and mentally for years.
Gryboski's lawyer told the court that the doctor shot her husband
in self-defense after he fought with their son, Christopher Lancaster,
who was upset about his mother's black eyes and bruised and swollen
lips.
While some people question why Gryboski didn't leave her abuser,
victims of domestic violence and their advocates says abusers do
a good job of making their spouses and girlfriends feel trapped.
''You're so beaten down you don't have the confidence,” said
a woman who wanted to be known by a false name, Colleen. ''Everybody's
going to say she's a doctor and should have known better. No. You're
petrified. You're absolutely petrified.”
Colleen said she was a successful career woman when she first got
married. After years of verbal and sexual abuse, she called police
to take her husband's guns away when he threw a pot of boiling water
at her.
It took months of counseling at Independence House for her to understand
that she didn't provoke the abuse, Colleen said.
''Victims of domestic violence are in an altered state. Up seems
down,” Hurge-Putnam said. ''I don't advocate killing anyone.
I'm not making an excuse, but it's also important to understand
if (Gryboski) was a victim all these years, it's sort of like she's
been brainwashed. You are in essence a prisoner.”
A young woman who recently sought shelter from her batterer said,
''They break you down. You feel less than human. They isolate you.
They say, 'No one cares about you. Only I love you.' And you start
to believe it. Then it builds to the physical.
''It's worse for people with higher social status,” the woman
said. ''Society puts more pressure on them. It's more embarrassing.”
Batterers have long threatened to take a woman's children away if
she leaves. With more women having careers these days, batterers
can threaten reputations and livelihoods as well.
''The strategies and tactics of clever batterers is endless,”
said Mary Lauby, executive of Jane Doe Inc., which represents the
Massachusetts Coalition Against Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence.
''High-profile victims may wonder, 'Who can truly help?' ”
Denial plays a role, too, said Lisa Sherman, an attorney in Orleans
and chairman of the board of directors of the Rose Fund, a Boston-based
organization that provides free reconstructive surgery for victims
of domestic abuse.
''They think, 'This really couldn't happen to me. This was just
a one-time thing. I can control this,' ” Sherman said.
Large homes and big yards provide the kind of privacy that keep
police from being called by neighbors, Sherman said.
Advocates for battered women say shelters also tend to house more
lower-income women because middle- and upper-income women fleeing
their abusers are more likely to be able to afford a hotel room
or have access to a relative or friend's large home.
But Mary Starr, executive director of the Cape Cod Center for Women,
remembers when a fleeing woman showed up at the four-bedroom shelter
in a Jaguar.
Wealthy as she appeared, her husband doled out an allowance for
groceries and didn't allow her to have any money of her own.
''We've seen people from all walks of life at Independence House,”
Hurge-Putnam said. ''They all feel they are the only one in their
predicament.”
Hurge-Putnam encouraged victims of domestic violence to seek help.
She said women - and male victims - don't have to go into shelters
or leave their homes to benefit from safety planning, counseling
and court advocacy.
In the fiscal year that ended in June 2006, Independence House helped
with the issuance of 2,203 restraining orders and saw 441 new clients,
70 percent of whom were victims of domestic violence. The others
were victims of sexual abuse.
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