Teaser Tuesday

The book A Prisoner by No Crime of My Own has been professionally edited and will be published this year. To pique interest, I will share tidbits from the manuscript with you some Tuesdays. I hope my story helps you find your story!

Chapter 17 – Murder | A Flip Book

“You’re breaking generational curses. That’s why this doesn’t come easy for you. You’re who your bloodline has been waiting for.”

Redmond and I continued our work through the years, and I began to piece the story together. As if writing one of those small books where you put together a different picture, slightly different than the last, and then thumb through it to make an entire story. That’s exactly what I did with my memories.

One evening in my old Craftsman home, I grabbed a bottle of wine and began the journey of putting it all together — everything my body and mind had discovered to this point. I brought it to Redmond in our next appointment and read through it with him.

He said, “Jodie, that’s remarkable what you’ve just done that. It’s very smart of you to put it all together in the timeline as it happened.”

After forty painstaking years, this is the sequential events of the day we murdered.

The month was June of ‘68. I was three, but not for long. I’d turn four the following month. My father and I were driving down a lonely, local interstate highway in a four-door sedan. The car was a silvery blue, with black interior. I learned later from my mother that this was my grandmother’s car but that is no part of my memory. Dad was preoccupied, but he was enjoying the lit cigarette pinched between his fingers.

It was a sunny day, and I was happy to be with him. He was my world. It didn’t matter what he did. He was the power. He took a left off the highway and drove slowly up to an unfamiliar building. He took me out of the car and sat me in a white plastic chair, my little legs extending beyond my summer dress. He disappeared. I looked around, taking in my environment. It seemed something I had learned how to do, to try and keep myself alert, away from harm. Across the highway was a hill topped with railroad tracks. My brother’s toy train made me wonder what a real train flying past might sound like. I was lost in this moment of childish wonder, until I felt a woman with soft, small hands reach out and take my own, ripping me from my thoughts. This moment is one I will guard for eternity.

She was a blonde woman, dainty, pretty, and petite. She tried to speak with me, but my father interrupted abruptly, grabbed my arm, and moved me away from her. I remember wanting her to stay. I pranced on my tip toes to keep up with Dad as he dragged me down the concrete sidewalk past the windows and doors. He was angry and I couldn’t afford any indifference to his need, only compliance. He opened a door to a room with no sunlight. He picked me up by one arm, swatted me, and sternly told me to stay put.

. . .


Teaser Tuesday

The book A Prisoner by No Crime of My Own has been professionally edited and will be published this year. To pique interest, I will share tidbits from the manuscript with you each Tuesday.

Chapter 1 – He Called Him Cholla

“You and I will always be unfinished business.”


They were in love. My Dad and him. Or, at least, he with my father.
Craig was Dad’s best friend. As a child, I knew Craig better than I knew my own mother. Who knew if my Dad ever loved him or my mom, but I know Craig adored my father.
In my fifties, Craig was put into a nursing facility with early signs of dementia. I’d been to see Craig a few years earlier and he told me he was starting to be forgetful, so this came as no surprise. His nephew and wife were given the task of cleaning out his home and preparing it for sale. In his garage, under some heavy clutter and a toolbox, they found a letter. That letter was from me. I’d written to Craig years earlier asking him to help me close the murder case and return the buried woman to her family. 
They emailed me and wanted to meet. I agreed. We met for several, long hours. It was difficult for all of us. His nephew bore a strong resemblance to Craig, which made my entire being uneasy.  I quivered trying to rid myself of the panic attacks.
His eyes wore the same color as his uncle’s but gave a warm depth of understanding. The light from his uncle’s eye twinkled with delight when he was allowed to love us, as he called it. The only depth in Craig was a bend towards deviance.

A few days later, I received a call from his nephew’s wife. She told me they had found a personal photo album that Craig had kept. The contents were a meticulous gathering of everything that mattered most to him. They’d found slews of other albums comprised only of landscape and nature photography, but this album was different. Very different. It held the most important people and moments of Craig’s life – most prominently featuring my father. She told me that she could see their friendship was more than platonic. She was sure I’d find the evidence I needed to recover their secret bond.  

I’m Scared

Yesterday I mailed out 12 packets on information to the President of the United States, the Governor of Washington, the Mayor of Vancouver, the Chief of Police, and two Washington Senators. I sent a courtesy copy to many local investigative reports, too. My goal is to have them help me excavate and exhume the body of the murdered woman who has been lying their, under 20 years of garbage, for over 50 years. The Vancouver Police Department will not help me, so I’m casting my net broader.

I’m scared that they may not help me. I am also scared that they will. Would you please pray with me that I can find closure to this 50 year old homicide?

Healing from old wounds like this takes great courage. In truth, there are parts of my (like many of us) that wants to keep hidden the evils of yesterday. If we don’t explore them, they don’t exist, right?

Wrong! They exist. They haunt us. The inner battle is always on.

I pray I win this one so the family of this missing woman receives answers and she gets the burial she deserves.

If you would like to hear the story it was aired on The Vanished Podcast, Episode 355: Madeline Babcock. This murder woman deserves to be remembered.


You can also read it in my newly published book (audio book coming shortly):

PTSD is a whole body tragedy

PTSD is a whole-body tragedy…of the heart, mind, body, and soul- of which all are interconnected.

But beneath the surface of the protective layers of trauma survivors there lays an undamaged essence, a part that is confident, curious, and calm, a part that has been sheltered from destruction by Jesus himself. Healing is a form of getting back to this original Self … who we were created to be.

In order to find out original parts we must let ourselves be cracked open, we must allow the hurt to cradle us, the pain to come rushing in … it is the only way to be whole again.

B 🤍

Isolation = Vulnerability

We need connection. Period. I know that people are the very thing that broke my world. When I couldn’t trust anyone, I trusted God.

I have learned that isolating myself (which I was formerly very fond of) did nothing good for me.

I may have perceived safety by being alone, but isolation is lonely and cold.

Building this community has been part of my healing. Bringing together others that need words of comfort — setting their pain aside to breathe — live!

Stay strong today. Reach out to one person and ask for anything — a cup of tea, a shared lunch, or even ask for prayer.

xoxoxoxo! All blessings today.

Stop Child Abuse Now — Talk Radio Show — NAASCA

Join me tonight, Monday, March 27, 2023, on the NAASCA Talk Radio Show, where I will be sharing my story.

It will be live at these times: ET–8pm – Central 7pm – Mountain is 6pm and Pacific is 5pm.

Call in number is 646-595-2118.

Check out the NAASCA here: http://www.naasca.org/.

Thank you for all your work supporting survivors.

I will post the recording of the show after it airs.

Take Your Power Back

I overcame so many dark moments with the realization that I didn’t want my father to win—in the midst of all the pain (much of it caused by him), I didn’t want him to win.

I wanted to take my power back.

At some point, something inside me shifted into a determination for me to win, to live, and to make choices for myself that would give me freedom and the opportunity to live a life that I wanted, on my terms.

Every time I feel guilty, yearn for the connection of a father, question myself, my memory, my integrity… & travel back and forth to the land of self-doubt… I remind myself that someone will see this, know it wasn’t their fault, and recognize they have every right to demand outrage from themselves and others, outrage that exists because of having to hide such a defining moment.

But, this also is about strength and becoming stronger than the pain you have suffered. This is about normalizing the strength that your trauma gave birth to and becoming more. More of everything, but especially more power to those whose voices were ignored for too long.

B 🤍

F N’ F (Fear Not Friday)

Question — In a relationship with a person, what do you fear will be stolen from you?

Or better said for me, what do I believe will not be stolen. I hate to be a cynic, but aren’t most people motivated purely by self-interest? Are they sincere? Do they carry with them integrity?

Okay, through years and years of counseling and listening to God, I have stumbled upon a way to be part of relationships. I am just being honest here. It is very hard for me to trust that people have a sincere desire for my best.

Let’s think of work relationships — that’s easy. It is all about what you give to them. Easy peasy. They don’t have to care about you personally — and truthfully, they usually don’t Their vested interest is getting the work done.

Then, what about friends. That’s a complicated one for me. I am distrustful. That’s just the truth.

A significant other poses risks of the grandest kind. What can’t they take from you.

In all these scenarios the one thing that keeps my heart occupied with peace is this: they cannot take who I am. That is no longer negotiable.

So, what do you fear will be taken from you in relationship?

Forewarning: This book is intended for the brokenhearted person stumbling through life looking for answers, crawling through pain, trying to find meaning to it all. — It is a tough read by all measures. The graphic depiction of abuse may very likely open wounds. If you have been through trauma, take good care while reading.

Break Free

Acknowledging the truth of our story is terrifying.

Thinking differently from the rest of the world is terrifying.

But it is time to take this seriously. The only way we will wake up as a human race is if enough of us wake up and start holding abusers accountable.

Living outside of the fear and denial is incredibly powerful and one of the most liberating things we can accomplish.

So many of us are are programmed to believe the lies instead of the truth.


The lies are much more convenient.

They make the world look less harsh.

They make horrible abuses disappear.

They make the powerful look like good people.

They give us a false sense of security too.

But under the surface, they don’t reduce our fear. They increase it. Deep down, we know the truth. And we know the blinders we are wearing can cause us more harm than good.

So we need to stop believing the lies because it feels better on the surface. We need to start believing the stuff that is hard to hear. We need to start believing the real truth from ourselves and others. We have to start believing the victims of horrible crimes and abuses.

They are not hallucinating.
They are not in need of meds. They are not lacking credibility. They are extremely brave.

And choosing to ignore or invalidate them is retraumatizing to them and the human race. The truth has to come out.

It is time for change. It is time to stop protecting the wrong people by participating in a abuser-enmeshed society.

It is time to question the fear-based choices of everyone around us. We have been given everything we need to break out of this prison.

And it’s time to use our tools.

B 🤍

Do you fall prey to words of deception?

Abusers are either trying to deceive you or they become your accuser. One way or the other, it is all manipulation. I’ve lived with many of them.

Abusive people want you to believe something that is not true, typically in order to gain some personal advantage. Not many people today use these old words, but we certainly should. Deception is cunning and sometimes hard to perceive. Deceivers are good at what they do — so good, most believe them.

Do these abusive people know what they’re doing? Of course they do!

If you stop believing the words of those that hurt you, guess what happens? You now become their target. They want to silence you. They will accuse you with false words and try to damage your character.

Be very careful who you let in your inner circle. If you are too young to walk away, tell someone who can help you. If you are an adult and you choose to stay by these people, please take a close look at that relationship. Without outside help, these relationships are toxic and will damage you.

What happens so often is we become paralyzed by these people. Their words intimidate us. Our anger towards them does nothing but keep that paralysis in place. Anger demands you focus on them. God is asking you to see yourself. YOU SEE YOU.

Taking your eyes off the abuser is the way to see your pain, acknowledge the damage that is in your life, and to start telling the true story.

God’s blessings to you today.

On Suffering

The world is a crazy, beautiful, ugly complicated place, and it keeps moving on from crisis to strangeness to beauty to weirdness to tragedy. David Remnick

Suffering leads us to ask for a cause. If we know the cause, it somehow makes it more acceptable or easier to embrace the fact that the suffering took place.  I have high cholesterol because I eat too much fatty food. I’m overweight because I don’t exercise enough.
But what about tragedy or suffering inflicted on innocent people who were perfectly healthy that became suddenly sick, or people who were innocent bystanders who encountered extremely evil violence at the hands of individuals not so well understood or known or explained?

As reasons for the tragedies continue to unfold we must look to our Creator more than ourselves for answers. What occurred was evil. But even out of evil God can still and does work—in spite of it.  

May we walk with those in deep pain whenever we have the chance. May we seek to be redemptive with our words as others experience unthinkable pain and loss.

Why does tragedy and suffering happen? There are no easy answers this side of Heaven. Sin, a broken world…but that doesn’t present a package with a nice little bow on top as the complete answer to suffering. We must trust in a God who’s understanding is beyond ours, whose love is vastly greater than ours, and who’s ability to redeem us is far reaching.

B 🤍

Courage to Defeat

Do you have the courage it takes to defeat those that hurt you? For years and years I did not. I let everyone walk right over me. In front of my face I can recall my mother ridiculing me, my ex-husband speaking so terribly to me that his own father defended me.

Why did I allow it?

Interestingly, my father did not ridicule me in my adulthood. He didn’t need to. He had effectively silenced me.

In my head, I heard their disparaging remarks. I knew it was wrong, but I still allowed it.

Do you know how to shut down a bully? You use your mouth. You use your intellect. You use your heart determination.

Today, I don’t live by those standards any longer. In fact, I won’t allow it in my work life either. I just stepped down from a big position. I didn’t like the way I was being treated. It felt unfair, unprofessional, and just plain mean.

I took courage and left that job.

What do you need courage for today?

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