By MATT CHANDLER
mchandler@bizjournals.com | 716-541-1654

Malika Henry was getting ready to take her children into the public library in her hometown of Cleveland. She never saw her assailant coming.

"He just popped out from behind a car and attacked me. He beat me to a pulp, and it was a security guard at the library that saved my life," she said, recounting the attack that prompted her to flee to Buffalo.

Experts say domestic violence incidents continue to occur at an alarmingly high rate and cross social, economic and racial lines. And they say that here in Western New York, domestic violence affects thousands of families each year.

Fearing for the safety of her children, Henry eventually escaped, taking refuge with her sister in Buffalo.

Two years after the beating in the parking lot, she earned an associate's degree from Bryant and Stratton College, is continuing her studies at Buffalo State and is an active volunteer at the Family Justice Center.

The center, at 237 Main St. in Buffalo, is a central facility for men and women that brings together all of the facets of domestic violence assistance under one roof.

Though she doesn't share her personal story with the clients she meets on intake ("The individuals that come in here are fragile and they need to know that the person they are talking to is stable"), Henry offered a look at domestic violence from someone who survived and escaped - something she knows many women in her shoes can't say.

Nowhere to go

"I had freed myself from the relationship but he would still call and I was still getting harassed," she said. "Him and I were friends and he wanted more. When he saw that wasn't gonna happen, he tried by force."

With four children to consider, Henry said she knew she had to do something.

"I couldn't go anywhere. No matter where I was, it was like he would just pop out of nowhere," she said. "As things kept escalating and it looked like it was never going to stop, I decided to make a drastic change. I sold everything I owned and moved here. I didn't even tell anyone I was leaving."

Henry said she felt victimized twice - once by her attacker and a second time as she entered the justice system.

"The first time I made a police report and went to the station, being there was the coldest place I had to be," she said. "They didn't care about the emotional part of it. It was like, ‘OK, where did it happen? What happened? Do you want to file charges? Good, we're done.'

"Emotionally, I still was not being taken care of. I left there feeling like ‘What had I done? What has really changed?' Had I had something like (the FJC), had I had a place where there were people who wanted to hear what happened to me, I would have reached out for help a lot sooner," she said.

Numbers don't lie

Mary Travers Murphy is executive director of the Family Justice Center. As she travels to various communities, educating people about the services it offers, she said often she hears horror stories that echo Henry's.

"There is a statistic that one in four women are victims of domestic violence, and when I first started this job, I thought that sounded high," she said. "Now, after four months of speaking on this topic, I can tell you that one-in-four statistic plays out every single time. Whether I'm in the swankiest places in East Clarence or on the deep East Side, that one-in-four stat plays."

Asked if her organization has seen a rise in domestic violence cases since the recession began - some reports suggest job loss and financial struggles play a role - Travers Murphy said she didn't see any hard evidence.

"A lot of people lose their jobs and don't beat up their spouse," she said. "I know our numbers are increasing, but I can't say it is tied to the economy."

The impetus for an "absolutely brilliant model" at the FJC was the idea that victims such as Henry were being forced to tell and retell their stories multiple times, she said. They were also made to navigate a complex system to access help from a dozen different organizations that were often spread across Western New York.

"The fragmented nature of the services often drove clients to throw in the towel," she said.

Today, the FJC houses 12 organizations under one roof at the downtown Buffalo office. From Crisis Services and Haven House to the Erie County District Attorney and the Buffalo Police, victims can get assistance in one location. And the results speak for themselves, according to Travers Murphy.

"We are still in our infancy stage, with the FJC only four years old," she said. "We've served between 1,000 and 1,200 clients (annually) and we are seeing our numbers rise as more people understand who we are and what the Family Justice Center is about."

"How the hell did this
happen to our family?"

To raise awareness, the center invites members of the civic and business community to tour the facility. At the end, visitors meet Debbie Jaeger, who puts a face to the specter of domestic violence. That face belongs to her sister, Jill.

Debbie describes her sister as "beautiful, educated, independent" and says she never imagined domestic violence could invade her close-knit family.

After meeting and marrying her husband, Jill settled down to raise a family outside of Syracuse, though she still made regular trips back to Tonawanda to see her her family.

Jaeger said she was aware that there was trouble in Jill's marriage and that the couple eventually agreed to separate. But there was no sign of what was to come.

After bringing her two children home one year for Easter, Jill returned to Central New York to the home that, despite formally separating, she shared with her husband.

"I got a call from her Monday night saying everything was good, that he had dinner waiting for them when they got home," Jaeger said. "Tuesday morning, I got a call saying Jill was in the hospital. He hit her over the head with a baseball bat seven times."

Jill Russell-Cahill suffered multiple injuries including a broken eye socket and broken arm. Her head was swollen to twice the size of normal, and doctors had to remove a piece of her skull out to reduce the swelling. As the family waited by her bedside, unsure if Jill would survive, her husband posted bail and walked out of jail.

"There's a lot you learn about the justice system that you never knew," Jaeger said. "One of the most profound things I've ever heard was when he was let out on bail. I was so angry and the district attorney pulled me aside and said to me, ‘Debbie, you've got to understand, it's the criminal justice system, not the victim's justice system.' Along the way, you learn that the criminals have so many more rights than the victims do."

Despite the severity of her injuries, Jill survived the attack. After nearly six months in the hospital, she was up and around, and doctors planned to release her. It was the miracle her family had hoped and prayed for. Just days before Jill was to be released, however, her husband - out on bail and awaiting trial on the assault charges - paid his wife a visit.

"He disguised himself as a janitor, snuck into the hospital and poisoned her," Jaeger said.

If reading those words hit you like a punch in the stomach, watch the faces in the crowd as Jaeger delivers them to a group of first-time visitors to the Family Justice Center. Travers Murphy said that even after all of the times she has heard the account, she tears up.

Jill's husband was convicted of murdering his wife and sentenced to death. That sentence was later overturned and ultimately reduced. While Jaeger feels the man who murdered her sister deserves to die, rather than focusing on what she can't control, she has spent the last three years volunteering at the Family Justice Centery. By sharing her story, she wants to reach those people in the audience who, statistics say, are both offenders and victims.

Travers Murphy, meanwhile, said she sees Jill Russell-Cahill at every event she speaks at and every public place she visits. The face may change, the age differ, but the end results are tragedies waiting to happen.

On the flip side, she points to Malika Henry as an example of overcoming the odds and becoming a survivor - not a victim - of domestic violence. As she sits in the children's play room at the center, Henry smiles as she talks about working with other women and rebuilding her life, thanks in part to her experiences at the Family Justice Center.

"I don't have any reason to look back," she said. "I'm so much more confident of things now and that situation is in the past."