Before they wed, Bernadette Sugrim’s husband
confided a sickening truth: he had killed a man… and never been caught. But
when he killed again, she knew she had to turn him in or pay with her life.
Bernadette recalls the terror of living with a murderer, and how she found the
courage to break her silence
“Just
married… and keeping his terrible secret”
On the morning of April 9, 2012, I could
feel my heart pound as I took my seat in the courtroom where Brian, my husband
of 14 years, was standing trial foe the brutal murder of a prostitute in
Michigan in 2003. It took all I had not to look him in the eyes. I knew he was
guilty he’d confessed the crime to me in secret, years before but as the jury
stood to announce their verdict, I started to panic, scared there might be a
loophole that would prevent him spending the rest of his life behind bars. I
knew that if he walked away a free man, it would be only a matter of time
before he’d hunt me down and kill me…
’Til death us do part
I knew when I married my husband that he’s
killed someone. I also know what you’re thinking. If I hadn’t been through it
myself, I’d be thinking it too. But unless you’re been in an abusive
relationship, I don’t think anyone can understand what real fear does to a
person.
I was 17 when o met Brian. It was 1995, a
beautiful June day, and my cousins and I had decided to go swimming. When Brian
appeared, walking out of the woods with a backpack, I thought he was the most
handsome man I’d ever seen. He was two years older than me, dark with chiseled
features. My cousins knew him from our small town of Goshen, New York, so they
asked him to join us. He was charming and funny, and we couldn’t take our eyes
off each other. Having grown up in poverty with six siblings, I wasn’t used to
attention, but he doted on me. His life hadn’t been easy, either. He’d arrived
from Guyana as an illegal immigrant when he was ten. He didn’t get on with his
father and, from time to time, he lived with a foster family. He was the first
man to say I was beautiful, and I soon fell head over heels. He was my first
kiss, my first love. He was exactly what I needed, and within three weeks, I
knew I wanted to marry him.
We’d been dating for a year when he
revealed a terrible secret. “I did something really bad I killed a man,” he
told me. I was shocked, but too terrified to ask questions. He had no remorse,
claiming the man, Demetrius Carter, 60, an Aids patient his parents had taken
in, had no life and it didn’t matter if he lived or died. He begged my
forgiveness, saying he needed me to love him. It was too much for me to
comprehend, but I was young and naive, and believed that by showing him
kindness and non-violence, I could change him, and show him how good life can
be.
The authorities never suspected him and, in
June 1997, we married in a church in front of 300 guests. But it wasn’t all
rose. Six months later, I became convinced he was cheating on me and left him,
but he talked me into coming back to him. Three years ago, I got pregnant, and
he started drinking. Again, I left, but shortly before I gave birth to our
daughter. Sky, he said he wanted us to get back together. He was all I had and,
despite everything, I still loved him, so we made it work.
Soon, we moved to Kalamazoo, Michigan.
Brian for a job teaching martial arts to kids, I worked in a bank, and we
bought a house. From the outside, we looked the perfect family. Brian was a doting
father he’d cuddle Sky, calling her his baby dragon. When I fell pregnant
again, in 2001, it wasn’t planned, but we were thrilled. Everything seemed to
be going so well.
Then, when I was seven months pregnant, it
all changed. Brian’s youngest brother, Christopher, 23, was killed in a
motorcycle crash. They were very close, and he took it hard. “Why did
Christopher have to die?” he said. “He was the good one. I’m the evil one.” In
the weeks that followed, he started staying out all night, drinking heavily and
doing cocaine and crystal meth. He’d lose his temper easily, and became
psychologically and physically abusive. It evolved from throwing vases at me to
waking me up with a rifle pointed at my face.
When
I was seven months pregnant, it all changed
When our son, Chris, was born, things
didn’t improve. I thought about leaving, but could never go through with it.
One minute, he’d be screaming obscenities at me; the next, he’s tell me how
much he loved me and that I was the best thing that ever happened to him. It
became my reality. I was paralysed by fear, not thinking about anything but
surviving that hour of that day, and keeping my children safe. The longer I
stayed, the less emotional I became. Unable to see a way out, I simply shut
down.
He kills again
In September 2003, Brian woke me in the
dead of night, frantic, saying he’d done something awful. My heart leapt. He
told me: “I killed a woman. I stabbed her to death.” I didn’t learn until later
that she was a 39 year old prostitute named Linda Gibson, but he told me he’d
murdered her in our van, then dumped the body just blocks from our house. He
said he was going to stay with my cousins in New York, and said if I told
anyone about it, he’d kill me and my mum, that he’d “gut her like the pig she
is”. Terrified, I kept my mouth shut.
My
heart leapt. He told me: “I killed a woman. I stabbed her to death.”
Six weeks on, Brian returned. The body had
been found, but there were no suspects. I bought a gun and slept with it under
my pillow. Brian knew I had it, but he’d laugh, saying that I wasn’t capable of
pulling the trigger. He was right. I wouldn’t have been able to live with
myself if I went to jail for killing Brian and my kids were placed in the
custody of the state.
Over the next six years, Brian revealed
details of how he’d murdered Linda Gibson. He said he’d burnt her clothes and
jewellery in the fire pit behind our house, and that she’d put up a good fight,
making him worry his DNA was beneath her nails. But the most gruesome detail
was that he said he’d killed her because she reminded him of me.
The stress started to take its toll and, in
2009, I suffered a heart attack. I was 31. I was clinically dead for seven
minutes. Five days later, I woke up in hospital and my cardiologist told me I
had Long QT Syndrome, where my heart gets slower between beats. But I knew the
real reason.
No longer able to live the way I was, I
gathered the strength to tell Brian I wanted a divorce. He told me that if I
ever tried to leave, he’d kill me.
Free at last
The day everything changed was May 16,
2011. I came home to find Brian beating Sky, then 11, with a baton, as she
hadn’t been able to control the dog. As Chris, eight, watched in horror, he
slammed Sky against the wall. I thought he was going to kill her, and started
hitting him. Sky ran for help.
When the police finally arrived, I was both
relieved and panicky. It was the first time they’d been involved. What would
Brian do to us after they left? An officer pulled me aside and said unless I
pressed charges they were going to leave. This was my chance. If I didn’t say
anything now, we were dead. Taking a deep breath, I looked the officer in the
eye and said, “If you don’t take him, he’ll kill us all before the night is
through.” Without hesitation, they hauled him away.
At the police station, I told them Brian
had killed Linda Gibson. It felt amazing not to have to hold it in any more
after all those years. I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted.
In February 2012, Brian’s case went to
trial. He was found guilty of first-degree murder and given life without
parole. I cried tears of joy. At last, my family and I were safe. Afterwards,
one juror called me a hero. I was stunned. If anyone’s a hero, it’s Sky. I’m so
proud of what she did.
All I want now is to live a normal life, go
bike-riding with my kids, and be happy. The other murder Brian confessed to, of
Demetrius Carter, is still under investigation, but I never want to see or talk
to him again. For the longest time, my life was about surviving. My message to
other women is to not let fear prevent them getting out of an abusive
relationship. It takes courage. But it’s the only way to break free and live a
life worth living.
Leaving an abusive relationship
In the UK, a staggering 45% of women have
experienced domestic violence. Every week, at least two women are killed by
their partners. If you or anyone you know is a victim, here’s how to seek help:
In
the UK, a staggering 45% of women have experienced domestic violence
Don’t try to handle the situation on your
own. Contact a friend or family member and ask if you can stay with them for
the time being.
Don’t tell the person who’s abusing you
where you are going or how they can contact you. Just pack your essentials and
leave as quickly as possible.
Call the police and make a formal
complaint.
Get counseling. Abuse can leave long standing
emotional scars. Joining support groups can also help you recover.
