A Stolen Life_ A Memoir - Jaycee Dugard [69]
The Difficult Parts of Life
Do you ever think twice before going to your child’s football or basketball game? Do you ever have to think, Am I putting my kids’ future in jeopardy because I show up at a game? I have to think about that every time I step out of the house. Am I doing something today with my kids to cause them to get their photo taken and jeopardize their privacy? I know this is not a life-or-death situation, but it is hard for me nonetheless. Now that I can, I want to be there for them in all the ways I couldn’t before—watch them play ball and help out with school functions—but I can’t without risking someone will recognize me and connect me with them. Sometimes I feel like I’m still a prisoner. Yes, I could decide to say screw it and to hell with what happens. But I really don’t have that choice. It is a free country and as such people have the right to take your picture or your kids’ picture and sell it for the highest price. I spent eighteen years hiding and not being seen, and now it almost feels like history is repeating itself. I know that sounds dramatic and maybe it is, but it kills me inside to tell my daughters we can’t do something together because I can’t risk them being connected with me. I know it’s not the end of the world. I will get through this. It will be an exercise of saying no, putting my foot down, and saying it’s just too risky—something so simple. People watch their children’s games, go to a school fair, host a spaghetti feed, and don’t even think twice. Some may grumble and rather be in my shoes and some just take it as a normal duty as a parent.
I feel I have missed out on so many things already that I hate to miss a second more. But I have to keep my girls safe and their lives normal. Sometimes I have trouble untangling my past and my present. My past was spent hiding and feeling nervous when I was out in public. I had been conditioned to blend in and not draw attention—change my hair color, wear a wig, put on glasses, and wear a hat. Now it is mostly the same. Inside, I fight a war about being the person I want to be and tempering that with who I need to be to keep my kids safe. When will the battle end?
Finding Old Friends
Officer Todd and a friend were able to sneak my youngest daughter’s hermit crabs into the hotel room while we were there. Todd contacted a fellow officer that was assigned to the search of the property and told them where to find them. That officer found the hermit crabs and brought the tank back to the station. The next day Todd and his friend smuggled them into the Hilton. They walked it past the front desk using a luggage carrier with towels covering the ten-gallon tank, then up in the elevator they went. When they knocked on the door, the room was already filled with people, from FBI, to police, to victim advocates. The room barely had standing room. People had to make way as Todd and his friend rolled the precious cargo inside the room. G was sitting on the bed and as Todd lifted the towel off the tank, the biggest smile I had seen in a long time spread across her face. G dubbed Officer Todd “Royal Crab Carrier One” and Todd’s friend “Royal Crab Carrier Two” right there on the spot.
Officer Beth was able to keep track of our cats and the neighbor’s dogs for us, too. The animal shelter the cats were at spayed and neutered them for us and gave them all their shots. There were six cats rescued from the property all together, four of our new kittens and two adult cats, Patches and Lily, who were strays that I fed. Beth asked what