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Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell
Written: September 20, 2005
In the early 1980’s, secrets were something that many families kept. It wasn’t until many years later that these secrets came out, destroying lives and towns. Many times these secrets had been made up, so when it came to real secrets, no one wanted to believe. Meagan and Kayla Michaels were just two of these such victims. As a society, their town ignored the signs that lay in front of them. They pretended that the secrets that the Michaels’ family had was their business and no one else’s. It would not only cost them two innocent children, but it would show how we choose to look the other way, rather than get involved. Here is their story.
Meagan Michaels was not your typical nine year old girl. She was very quite and at times seemed to be in her own world. The teachers couldn’t get her to join in with the other students in class or on the playground. It was as if the poor child just didn’t want to function! Now she was smart, her schoolwork proved that. But there still seemed to be something wrong with the girl. The other students tended to tease her, and I did my best to contain it. My name is Ms. Reynolds and I was Meagan’s third grade teacher, for the short time I had her. I am writing this story as I feel I knew the children the best. Meagan would come to me and tell me things that I don’t think she told anyone else. She would show me things she wrote, as long as I promised not to show another soul. There was such pain and darkness in her writings. I knew what she wrote was true, but I was only a teacher and back then we teachers knew better than to interfere into a student’s life. At one point, I did approach one of my superiors and was, should we say, gently guided, to “not pursue this nonsense any further” and so the subject was dropped. Yet I still listened to Meagan. She told me of the things her father would do to her at night. He would sneak into her room after her mother passed out, and then use her as his bride. When I asked her how long things like this had been going on for she only replied, “Well, I am nine now, and can only remember until I was ‘bout four or five…” She was telling me that it had been happening for almost five years!! I was in shock! And to think that she had a little sister in the home with her!
Kayla Michaels was only six years old, so I didn’t have her in any classes. After my visits started with Meagan, I made a point of stopping by Kayla’s first grade class just to talk to her. I was even more appalled by her appearance. In front of me stood a child that had not been bathed in probably a week. She had a cast on one arm, and the other arm was covered in bruises. With a swollen black eye and puffy cheek, she still managed to smile at me and whisper hello. I couldn’t understand how someone, anyone could let a child in that condition return to a home that just may not be safe. This was my first and last visit with Kayla. When her parents found out that I had stopped by her classroom, they made a point of pulling her out of school, stating that she had taken ill. She never returned to school. I was promptly reprimanded for “harassing” a student and “sticking my nose where it didn’t belong” as I was told.
Meagan didn’t come around for the visits we would have after class for about two months. I merely assumed that she was trying to not stir up anymore trouble. I did notice on a number of occasions that she would come to school with bruises or would miss many days at a time. Each time I would inform my superior of my concerns I would get warned not to interfere or I would no longer have a job at the school. The last time I went to my superior, I was sternly told this: “Our policy is merely this; Don’t ask a child if something is wrong and if they say that something is wrong and it is something that would require police action or something of the such, then that is second half of our policy-Don’t tell-for it’s not our place to tell what we are told. Don’t ask, Don’t tell. Just keep your mouth shut. Mind your own business or you won’t have a job at this school district or any other!” And so like the good teacher that I was back then, I did just that. I did listen to Meagan when she would come around or sneak me a poem here or there, but not once did I speak up or go to my superiors again. I already knew what they would say.
Meagan wrote one poem that I still have to this day. I wanted to include it in this piece today. I think it says so much about the fear that an abuser places in their victims.
Up the Stairs
He is coming up the stairs
No one cares
He is coming for me
Why is it no one sees?
Daddy damaged my special place
He says that this is just a taste
I don’t understand why
Can’t I just die?
I am no longer whole
He has taken all of my soul
Daddy has made this my little hell
Making me carrying a secret I can’t tell.
I found out six months after my first and last visit with Kayla that she was dead.
How you might say? Well I was asking my self the same thing. I didn’t see anything in the obituaries in our local papers. One day during recess Meagan came up to me and asked me if she could speak to me. I motioned her over to where we would have more privacy and she began to open up. Throughout the course of our conversation, Meagan told me that her father had gotten very angry because I was talking to her and her sister. She remembers coming home that night and getting severely beaten by her mother. I was surprised by this. I asked her if her mother hit her often and she said that when her mom was drinking she did. My next question to Meagan was how often her mother drank and she stated all the time. I was really wanting to know how Kayla died and who if anyone killed her. I remember worrying that the other teachers were going to contact my superiors and tell them that I was “harassing” Meagan. Before I knew it, Meagan grabbed my arm and jerked me back to reality. She was telling me how her mom was saying that she and Kayla were nothing but big mouths. She told me how her father had not been touching her as much since Kayla had not been in school. She had been afraid that he was doing to Kayla what he’d been doing to her for so long. It seemed as if Meagan was merely rambling. She was neither here nor there. She would start on one story and go to another. Recess was almost over and I could tell that she felt rushed. When I told her that she could talk to me more after school if she wanted, she said that she could not do that ever again. I was taken back by that, but figured that it had something to do with her father or the school for that matter. As if on cue, the recess bell rang. I believe it scared Meagan. I remember the look on her face. I could tell that she wasn’t done talking to me, yet I knew that I wouldn’t get the chance to speak to her again. As she started to walk away, she turned and ran my way, hugging me. She whispered a gentle thank you in my ear and handed me the following poem. I firmly believe this to be actual events of the last nights of Kayla Michaels.
No Matter What Others Think
Everyone thinks she fell and broke her arm-
No one thinks mommy or daddy could do any harm.
I may be little but the truth I know-
They hit sissy blow by blow!
I’m nine and have a story to tell
Too many years of a living hell.
I watched Mommy get mad because she caught Daddy in the act-
Lying naked with sissy on her back.
It had been happening to me for years-
But let’s forget about all of my pain and tears.
Daddy tried to explain-
Saying that they were only playing a game.
But Mommy was drunk and mad-
Yelling that he was nothing but sick and not a dad.
But then she got angry at sissy, saying she wouldn’t let her take her place-
Mommy walked up to her and slapped her on her face!
Sissy was only six and didn’t understand so she hit back-
Suddenly I heard Daddy’s loud whack!!
He hit sissy so hard she bounced off the wall!
Then she slumped and began to fall.
But Mommy and Daddy did not stop-
Mommy began to kick her like a rag mop.
Daddy laughed and punched harder and harder-
It was as if they didn’t care that it was their daughter!!
Sissy let out her last little whimper-
And then her little body went limp.
My Mommy and Daddy just laughed the night away-
Then made up the perfect little stage!
They cleaned sissy up and put her in school clothes-
Though to school she would not go.
Daddy put sissy’s body behind the neighbor’s car and waited-
This next part I really hated!!
When the neighbor backed up I had to scream like I was sissy-
Out ran Mommy acting all worried and in a hissy.
A car accident isn’t what killed sissy no matter what others think-
Mommy and Daddy are killers and I hope someone can find the link!
They can’t just get away with her murder, it wouldn’t be fair-
There must be some judgment-I know they’ll get their share!
As I read each line, I cried harder and harder. It wasn’t just the fact that Kayla had been murdered. It was that Meagan had seen the whole thing, been made to act like her now dead sister, and the fact that this poor child was still living in the confines of such evil abusive people. I went to the library and pulled up newspapers from the time of Kayla’s death to see what was listed as her cause of death. I was not surprised when it said car accident. I then contacted the coroner and got my hands on all public records that I could. I remember my surprise in finding out that no autopsy was preformed because the parents didn’t want it and had already been through enough. Now days autopsies are first, forget the feelings of the parents! Everything I came across pointed to what Meagan had told me in her poem. I wanted to speak to Meagan more, but I remember feeling that I had to bring this to the attention of my superiors; screw my job. If my concern of a child’s life was going to cost me my job, then so be it. When I went to inform my superiors of the information I had received, I was told that it was only a child’s imagination running wild and that I had been warned about meddling in student’s affairs. I was promptly asked to clean out my desk as my services were no longer needed at their school. To say I was angry was an understatement. I kindly let them know that they would be hearing from my attorney. I went to my classroom to pick up a few things, but to mainly leave a note on Meagan’s desk. When I opened Meagan’s desk, there was a note in there for me from her. It was her goodbye note to me.
Dear Ms. Reynolds,
I am writing you this letter to say goodbye to you. You have been such a relly good friend go me. You have been my one and only secret keeper-did you know that? I trust you with all my stuff. I want to thank you for taking the time to talk to Kayla while she was here too. She told me she relly like you. Well I woun’t be able to talk to you any more because I have to make things right for my sissy. What Mommy and Daddy did was wrong and I told them that I was going to tell. Daddy said that I will end up just like sissy, so you will know what happened to me if so. Its not that bad. If he does to me what he did to sissy, at least he can’t touch me there no more. So he is hurting himself either way. Promise me that you will make sure him and Mommy will get judgment in God’s eyes? I know you will. You are my real friend. Thank you and I will see in Heaven someday.
Love,
Meagan Michaels
She was right too. I didn’t see her again. I was too late. I ran out of that school as fast as I could, but I was still too late. I’d stopped at a pay phone and called the cops, telling them to get to the Michaels’ place. Still we were all too late. By the time I had arrived at Meagan’s house, the cops already had it taped off, which could only mean one thing to me; something happened. By the time that I explained to the cops that I was the one that had called them there in the first place, I had pieced together that Meagan’s mother was dead. She had been shot in the back of the head by her husband, Robert who now lay in the ambulance covered in blood. He was shot as well, though his was self-inflicted and he was expected to make it. Then there was Meagan. I remember screaming her name. Where was Meagan? I think 2 or 3 officers had to calm me down, before explaining to me what happened. As the officers started their explanation, I saw the gurney being pushed out the front door of the Michaels’ home. It wasn’t just the fact that I saw the gurney. It was that there was a little arm dangling down from it. I remember screaming. It wasn’t until hours later that I was told exactly what had happened.
As Mr. Robert Michaels’ told in his confession, he was not going to let that brat of a daughter get the best of him with her threats of judgment. When she came home from school that day, he had his way with her. She fought like never before, which he didn’t mind. But when his wife walked in, just like she had when he was playing with Kayla, all hell broke loose. He had had his fill of that woman and her drunkenness. He just figured he would end it there for all of them, so he got his gun. He shot his wife first, then he shot his daughter Meagan 9 times, one time for each year he had put up with her, and then shot himself, but didn’t succeed in taking his own life. In his confession he admitted to the murder of his other daughter Kayla. Mr. Michaels’ trial went off without a hitch and he was found guilty of 3 counts of first degree murder and multiple counts of sexual abuse on a child. He will spend the rest of life in prison with no chance of parole. As for me, I never went back to teach at the school I was teaching at. I did however sue them for firing me and many other things and they settled out of court. I find it interesting that we as a society want our children to be protected from evil and such, yet we have been known to say don’t ask, don’t tell…
©2005 Candice M. Martin
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