Rebecca Holzworth Survivor Sister Story


My story of abuse from a man I loved…

When you first said you loved me my heart opened wide it started beating again after the loss of my fiancé to suicide. I didn’t even realize the changes in your mood the anger that you were showing more and more of your true self, until that one night in the bathroom where we had our first real fight and you had slapped me. You walked out and I shut the door and sat on the toilet in tears, you came in to say you were sorry, foolishly I believed you, because I loved you that much. Then it got a lot worse. You made it an every night thing to show me I was no longer in control of my own body or mind. You would fight with me about every little thing, if I disagreed you would humiliated me in front of everyone That we lived with over and over again. Then one night I stood up for myself and you choked me in front of everyone so bad that I was turning blue, your brother quickly ran over and pulled you off of me saying I wasn’t worth it (as if it was my fault you choked me) making me feel like maybe it is my fault… I became so scared to do anything because everything I did you would end up pushing/slapping/choking humiliating me hurting me so deeply, scarring me forever… I became so angry at myself. An I couldn’t seek Revenge on him because he would definitely hurt or even killed me. So knowing what was going to happen I stayed at my brothers up the street until you called me asking to meet up behind the post office in dennis which was up the street from where you was living, scared to death I stupidly met you there, you were demanding answers in why I left So I tried to tell you up until you tackled me on pavement and grabbed me by my hair shaking me so hard my head hitting the pavement, starting to slap me screaming at me so I started screaming thinking that he would stop from hurting me but instead it only made it worse and became more violent with me… I thought I was in the wrong, so I Stayed with him. I knew deep down that eventually he would kill me if I didn’t leave, but no I stayed I didn’t care I thought there was a chance you would just stop and love me the way you once did. Love makes you do stupid stuff sometimes!!! We got kicked out of the place we were staying cause of all the fighting and violence. so you got us into the Barnicle motel a few miles up the street. Everything seemed to be going alright for a little while, it seemed to be going as I hoped for us, until one night you came home with some crack. I got mad you didn’t seem to understand why I was so upset about it, so you claimed to have flushed it down the toilet and took a walk but I am not dumb it was an hour and a half until you came back to the room. I was already in bed about to fall asleep when you turned me over started kissing me, I said No, too you clear as day and you just kept going, I yelled at you to get the fuck off me you ripped my clothes off. I started crying as you started choking me, slapping me saying to me I THOUGHT YOU LIKED IT ROUGH!!! ! I started screaming louder trying to push you off of me but you were too strong and I lost that battle too, I was too scared I just gave in too your will and I was afraid to call the cops. I laid there covered in blood while you passed out with your arm around me an I cried myself to sleep hoping you’d just kill me and get it over with. The next morning you left for work and I cowedly stayed in the motel room waiting for you as usual eventually you came home with some drugs and as you were done getting it ready in that spoon you had told me to come over and tie off, I told you I didn’t want it, I don’t want to get high but you screamed at me and as scared as I was I slowly walked over to you, you asked me why I don’t want it and I said because I just don’t, I don’t trust you. you slapped me so hard my head literally bounced off the wall… night again has fallen I was hungry and you told me to walk to dunkins to get the donuts they throw away every night so I got my coat on and started walking. As I continued to walk over the Bassriver bridge I broke down, screaming up at god to help me, help me get out of this situation balling my eyes out I continued to walk and as I look down to wipe my eyes there on the ground was 100 bucks I tucked it in my pocket got the donuts and went home not saying anything about the money to him I went to bed. The next day I called someone to pick me up for some gas money, I told you I was going to do laundry as I grabbed all my stuff and asked if you had anything to wash, you didn’t…. As I walked out the door I turned and told you I LOVE YOU!!! I went home scared that he was gonna come find me. so I took off to florida got stuck and had to wait a month to get home back to cape… when I got off the bus and got into my moms car I cried while my while she hugged me god I missed her so much… you got arrested for stabbing your girlfriend at the times husband but had gotten out and found me, said you understand why I left and you said you thought I was one strong woman for leaving someone that would do that to me. well I stupidly fell for it all over again. As we continued with the next chapter once again he seemed so awesome so loving… SHIT how stupid could I possibly be ONCE AGAIN I had fallen for you, so we were homeless again bouncing around from place to place and it became stressful… Mind you I was clean for a month NO DRUGS!!! We started using again and moved in with a crack head and her daughter every day you would go out and rob someone for money to get that 20 minute high you would force inject me with the drugs the first fight was about drugs you started flipping out and body slammed me in the front yard because you was sick and there was no money. An once again that’s how the abuse started up and we started living with a friend in hyannis and you got prescribed suboxone so you wasn’t out robbing people every day. I felt so bad getting high in my friends house cause they were such good people they didn’t need a couple of junkies shooting up subs in the bathroom so I tried to stop but you wasn’t letting that happen I remember one night you had gotten money and wanted to get dope with it and I said can we get food instead and you had said that these people have food eat something here so it started a very small argument you told me to shut the fuck up it ain’t your money so I went to go walk out as you grabbed me and threw me on the bed I yelled WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING you told me to shut the fuck up and punched me in the face with all of your strength worse than ever before my eye quickly began to blacken my eyeball was all red and I gently looked up at you and saw you smirk, Frankie came in and saw me he quickly called 911 the ambulance gets there asked what happened, you quickly answered told them we were playing you grabbed me and I hit my head on the frame of the bed I didn’t say shit but they knew… I passed out on the ride to the hospital I don’t remember much of it. As the staff at the hospital try to treat me I walk out and in the waiting room are you and my friend frankie I walked out the door as you ran after me trying to give me a cig I took it.. A few days later we were taking a walk and I was on ssi and my mom was my payee for the benefits. so I wouldn’t miss spend it and you found out as we walked down main street you said we are going to get your ssi checks I argued it and you punched me in the face made my nose bleed in front of everyone on Main Street and no one stopped to help me so again I lost another battle I took my benefits and rented a condo from your moms boyfriend. I got pregnant but that didn’t stop you either.. You went to your friends house and got high every day. one night you got drunk and came home you started fighting with me saying I was talking shit.. You got on top of me started slapping me shaking me pulling my hair really hard. I started yelling to watch out for the baby you stopped after about ten minutes of attacking me.. That’s when I knew I needed to go my babies life was in danger and I wasn’t having it.. So the next chance I got to leave I left and went into a shelter for women in my situation stayed there a few weeks but it wasn’t working for me I was far away from all the stores and had no transportation to get any food or any thing I needed so I went to stay with my mom. shes the only one who ever understood what I was going through at least when it came to you beating me. You knew where she lived at the time and would stand outside trying to see me you began stalking me and there was nothing I could do about it.. A restraining order is just a piece of paper to you and the courts seem to always give you a break I mean seriously your records bigger than anyone ive ever knew and yet still you get away with stabbing people I didn’t go back to you until I had my son.. You was sober/clean going to church seemed like you had straightened up a lot and you did, until you started hanging out with the same crowd I found out you was selling heroin I left you and didn’t talk to you for a year and a half you was in and out of jail the entire time.. When I saw you again you was doing good, had a good girl friend and was healthy we tried to co parent but that clearly didn’t work at the time I was a happy single mother of two little boys and I will NEVER go back to you!!! An you got mad and came to my house one day dunk talking to yourself well sitting on my step causing a seen but I had seen this too manny times and I knew I had to start to stand up for myself and my babies. So I had called the Police and they removed him and they even helped me get to the police station for a new restraining order and drove me home! After reading everything I wrote on here I do know how unbelievably stupid I was for taking him back all those times, how dumb I must have looked and how incredibly STUPID I felt inside for staying with him for so long!!! Now Understand that that’s called Stockholm syndrome due to him An I have tremendous amounts of PTSD and Anxiety due to all the abuse that I suffered at his hands. I finally gained my courage back and pressed charges on him for all the stuff he did too me! As for my boys I hope and pray to the lord above that they never have to know the life of their father. I will make sure they learn how unbelievably wrong it is to abuse a woman and they both will be raised to become MEN!!! They are my angels they save my life in so many different ways! I don’t know if id still be alive if I hadn’t gotten pregnant with my aiden… God knows he has even try to use the kids to try to take power over me but this time I stood up for myself and my children and fought back. There is always a way out, if you are in a violent relationship there is always help you need to do something about it DO NOT ALLOW THEM TO CONTROL YOU! This relationship left me with PTSD and manny other mental health issues! If you see anyone being abused please contact your local police and SAVE A LIFE!!!


Rebecca Holzworth Survivor Sister Story

My Ex-Husband Killed My Daughter


My name is Kris, and I have been a domestic violence advocate now for 21 years. In addition to my advocacy work, I have also become a resiliency speaker sharing my own story of domestic violence and the horrifying events that led up to the murder of my 3yr old daughter, Miranda. 

As I share this horrifying story, I also like to share how I overcame this horrible tragedy and how I found happiness and joy again. I also share my story in hopes that it touches and encourages just one abuse victim to seek safety for her and her children. 


My story begins in 1993 when I met and fell in love with a man who I thought was the man of my dreams. We had an enormous wedding with all of the pomp and circumstance you can imagine. My entire wedding attire was handcrafted, from the roses and pearls on my veil to the roses on my shoes. It was my dream wedding. 

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It was the event of the year that turned sour and sinister within six months. My life turned into a real-life horror story. I was 23 at the time of my marriage. The abuse started as soon as the marriage certificate was signed. The man that I thought loved me like no other turned into a monster. 

In 1995, I became pregnant with a beautiful and very healthy baby girl, who we named Miranda Faith. She could not have been a more perfect and happy baby. I instantly fell in love with her and the role of motherhood.

By 1997, my marriage had deteriorated to the point that there was no salvaging it, and I had to make the heartbreaking decision to leave my husband, my abuser. His name was *Henry, and he was a Firefighter/Paramedic. 


Once I decided to file for divorce, most of my days were spent living in fear and frustration. I was ALWAYS in constant fear for my life and the life of our daughter. I was divorcing my husband for mental and emotional abuse, cheating, gaslighting, financial abuse, and his blatant disrespect for our marriage and family. Everything that could be balled up in an unhealthy marriage was part of my marriage. 

From the moment I asked Henry to leave our home, the abuse escalated. Henry felt his controlling grip begin to loosen, and he noticed that I was changing. He was starting to notice that I was getting stronger in my will to stand up to him, and this scared him. And when Henry felt threatened, the devil that lived inside of him would rear its ugly head. 

First, it began with constant phone calls all hours of the day and night at home and work. He began following me everywhere I went and showing up at my place of employment, friend’s houses, the mall, restaurant, you name it, he was ALWAYS THERE. 

He would call me early in the morning and give me a blow by blow of what I had done the night before, who I was with and where I went, what I was wearing, what time I had left my house, and what time I returned home. 

So many times, he or his father paid for other people to follow me, purposely scare me, or try to run me off the road and take my picture. These strangers were paid to terrorize me! He even went as far as hiring someone to come to my front door late one night posing as a person who had lost their dog. 

The stalking, harassment, and threats never stopped. At this point, I was forced to file a restraining order to try and keep Henry away from Miranda and me, but the abuse continued and escalated. The restraining order just fueled his anger even more. 

Pressing Charges

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It became so exhausting and so scary that I was encouraged to press charges to have him arrested for stalking and for violating his restraining order. I had to document every single thing that happened from the ungodly amount of phone calls to the times we exchanged Miranda, every conversation, and every unexpected visit. I had to document every time I noticed him following me and when he showed up at my place of employment. 

I became the queen of documentation. You see, the burden of proof is always put on the victim to prove that she is in danger and scared to death for herself and her children. 

During this time, we were fighting over custody. I felt it appropriate that he only get supervised visitation. After all, he had threatened to kill us many times. I did not think that that was an unreasonable request, but of course, he wanted to get full custody. It was nasty and terrifying. I was terrified for Miranda’s life and mine, but I could not convince a judge that Henry was a dangerous man. So many times, I kept hearing, “I’m sorry, but we can’t do anything until something happens.”


Henry would call me in the middle of the night during Miranda’s visits, threatening to kill Miranda and then himself. This, of course, would send me into a panic of monumental proportions. I would call the police; they would go and check on them, and Henry would laugh and say that I was the crazy ex-wife who was harassing him.

He would get a pat on the back, and he would go right back to stalking and threatening. He would even call me after the police left. 

I would get so many phone calls that I could not keep up with all of the documentation on my own, so my parents hired an answering service to answer and document all calls coming from him. 

Henry made it his life’s mission to stalk me even using the ambulance he was driving to follow me, and his partner never reported it. He would sit outside of the courthouse where I worked and just watch. He wanted me to know that he was always watching me. 

After months of stalking and documenting, and after nearly losing my job, I finally obtained enough evidence to have him arrested. I had a huge three-ring binder of all of the evidence that my mother, her secretary, and I had put together. I had done my part 100%. 


Finally, he was going to jail, and for once during this whole battle, he was going to be held accountable for the abuse. After months of calling the police, after pleading with the Fire Chief to talk to him and hold him accountable, and after months of pleading with his parents to help control him, he was FINALLY going to jail. 

However, instead of going to the firehouse to arrest Henry, the police called him as a courtesy, so that they would not embarrass him in front of his co-workers. They asked him to come down to the station and turn himself in. They assured him it would be hush-hush, and he would be out of there by the end of business that day. 

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Within an hour of being arrested, he posted bail and was right outside my house sitting in his truck watching. Again. Henry was NOT held accountable. Again, another pat on the back. 

NO ONE listened to me; no one in authority would listen.

NO ONE wanted to believe that this man was DANGEROUS. 

Once Henry was sentenced, his original sentence of 8 months of jail time was suspended, and the judge ordered him to participate in 10 sessions with a certified psychiatrist, and he had to report to his parole officer once a week. He was also granted joint custody even though he had just been convicted of a crime. 

Instead of making Henry do those sessions with a certified psychiatrist, his parole officer reduced his sentence yet again to just one week’s worth of anger management. Henry did not need anger management. Henry managed his anger just fine, especially when there were witnesses.

Henry was never held accountable for anything. He was a member of the “brotherhood,” and he most certainly received preferential treatment. 

He used the uniform and the ambulance to inflict fear and intimidation like you have never known, and they allowed it. 

He used the uniform as a way of getting away with harassing me. He knew that if I called the police, they would not do a thing to him because he was a firefighter.

I thought the torture would never stop. I was always on high alert. Henry was always stalking, threatening, and lurking outside my house. I fought this man for three solid years. He was everywhere! If it was not him, it was his father or some sleazy friend they would hire to continue the torture. 

I had almost become numb and accustomed to it. I had grown accustomed to the feeling that one day he would kill me. At one point, I had made my peace with it. I did not know of any other way to live. Miranda and I never received the help we so desperately needed. 

Then one day, I noticed that the incidences were occurring less often. I had noticed that the turmoil had somewhat subsided. Was he getting bored? Was he trying to throw me off by backing off? No, that was not the case at all. 

Foolish Optimism

It was not until he met someone else that the torment somewhat subsided. I, too, had met someone and was trying to live a normal life. Things became quiet, and for the first time in a year or more, I thought we had finally made it to a place where we could actually get along. I was so hopeful. I was foolishly optimistic. 

Henry turned had his attention to a new woman. I am not going to lie; I was so relieved he was leaving me alone. He had moved on to a new victim and another victim she was. 

Her name was *Leah. She was a physical therapist at one of the local hospitals and the mother of 2 young daughters. She was beautiful, self-sufficient, owned her own home, and had a great job. She had her whole life ahead of her—a life of promise and success. 

After about eight months, their relationship started to deteriorate. Henry was having financial problems and was living off of Leah. Just like a narcissist does, he professed his love for her, promptly moved in overwhelming her with gifts, charm, and false promises. 

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I found out later that she had become afraid of his controlling behavior. She was living on the ever-changing roller coaster of Henry’s moods. She was too afraid to cross him. He had become possessive, delusional, and overall too controlling. After they moved in together just after a few weeks of dating, he demanded they get married. It was all too much too fast. 

He had asked her to marry him. She said yes, too terrified to tell him no. Throughout the next couple of months, things began to deteriorate between them, and that nagging horrible feeling began to haunt me yet again. 

Finally, after her oldest daughter, who was 15 at the time, decided to move back to her dad’s, Leah found the courage to tell Henry to leave. She had decided that this was not the life she wanted for herself or her daughters. 

Henry left and moved back in with his parents. As you can imagine, this was a massive blow to his ego, and he was furious.

The Downward Spiral

From this point on, things began to spiral out of control. Henry began tormenting her the exact same way he did me. She filed for her protective order and had begged and pleaded with the Fire Chief to tell Henry to back off. Henry had violated the restraining order so many times. 

Leah contacted Henry’s parole officer, and he was put on paid leave and encouraged to see a doctor, causing Henry became irate. His behavior once again became erratic and increasingly unpredictable. He threatened to kill her and then himself. Henry was becoming unhinged. 

He began acting erratically with me again and giving me a hard time about visitation with Miranda. 

During the time all of this was happening, I had been working for the Tax Assessor’s office, and I had finally gained my deputy assessor’s certification. It had taken me six years to get my certification, and I was so very proud. It was a huge accomplishment for me. I was making a better life for Miranda and me. I was getting paid a little bit more, and I was well on my way to a promising career. For the first time, I had everything going for me. 

I had recently remarried, and my husband Jeff and I were headed to New Orleans for my pinning ceremony. 

Since Henry was given joint custody, I was forced by the judge to leave Miranda in his care until my return four days later. It was gut-wrenching having to turn away and leave her. And it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my entire life. 

On a cold Tuesday night, January 12, 1999, Henry went to his parent’s house and switched vehicles with his dad. He then picked Miranda up from daycare and then drove to the hospital where Leah worked. She had been in a staff meeting with several of her co-workers and was due to leave the building at approximately 5 pm. 

Henry pulled into the parking lot and parked on the opposite side of the hospital to not be seen or recognized as she was leaving the building. As Leah was walking out, surrounded by her friends and co-workers, Henry approached her. 

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He begged her to talk to him. He asked for two minutes of her time, and she said no. She told him he is not supposed to be there, and if he did not leave, she would call the police. She reminded him that he was violating his restraining order yet again. 

It was at this time that Henry pulled out a Smith and Wesson .38 Special that he got from his father, and he shot Leah point-blank in the face three times. Leah dropped to the ground, dead and unrecognizable. People began to run and scatter, screaming and running for cover. They were hiding under cars and running into the open field next to the parking lot. 

Henry drug her lifeless body to a grassy median and laid her body out. He then, ever so calmly, walked to the vehicle where he left my little girl sitting alone. He carried Miranda over to Leah’s dead body; he held her on his lap and began talking to her. According to witness statements, he whispered in her ear, then put the gun to her tiny temple and pulls the trigger. He turned her over and shot her again. 

He then laid Miranda’s body next to Leah’s and pulled out a hunting knife that he got from his father and began to stab and slice Leah’s body over and over and over again. 

In the blink of an eye, two innocent people were dead. This man was Miranda’s father. Her father failed her. He was supposed to love and protect her. He was supposed to be the example she would judge all other men against, and he killed her!

Within minutes, the very fire station that Henry worked at had to make that call. He knew his co-workers would be the ones to come to help. He had been planning it all along. Police were on the scene, and the ambulance was there waiting to try and help the victims, but Henry refused to put his weapon down. 

The police asked him over and over to put down his weapon, and he refused. He slowly brought his gun up and pointed it at the police. The officers had no choice but to shoot. After several rounds, Henry was dead. 

He had killed my only child. He had taken a precious life that was not his to take. He had taken the mother of two young girls. The scene, as you can imagine, was total chaos and confusion. 

Henry murdered Miranda just four days shy of her 4th birthday. I had already planned her party and sent out her invitations. I was six hours away and had a very long six-hour drive home. It was the worst six hours of our lives. I had absolutely no details, only that my precious daughter was dead. 

Miranda died that night at approximately 5:30 pm with two gunshot wounds to her tiny head. At 9:30 that Tuesday night, I got the call from the Chaplain of the fire department. 

My mind could not comprehend what had happened. I had so many questions. How was I supposed to live the rest of my life without her? How was I supposed to be a loving wife and partner to this man who loved Miranda like his own? We had only been married for three weeks. How were we going to build a life together after such a horrific event? 

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Here I was with a wonderful husband looking back at me completely helpless.

Within a couple of hours, the story hit the news. My mother was working in Houston, and my dad had just gotten off work, and my brother was living in Ft. Worth at the time. We were scattered around living our lives when our world literally stopped spinning. 

The days that followed were an absolute blur. I had to make some tough decisions. We were all depending on our bodies to take over what our brain and our hearts could not comprehend, like a machine. 

It was by sheer perseverance and determination that I decided that Henry was not going to have the last word. I decided right then that I was not going to let him win. He may have thought he won by trying to destroy me by killing my daughter, but I had other plans. I was NOT going to allow him to steal the joy I had by starting a new life. I was NOT going to let him or his family scare me any longer. I decided right then and there that I was going to fight harder than ever before to tell the world exactly what he had done. 

Before he killed Miranda and Leah, Henry left behind a suicide tape detailing his plan and the reasons why he felt justified in murdering. 

Leah – If I can’t have her, then no one will. Miranda – It was revenge. 

I decided then that I was going to have the last word, and I came up swinging. 

I was determined to tell this heartbreaking story to the whole world. I am determined to shout it from the highest mountain. 

Maybe, just maybe, this time someone will listen. 

I stand before you today, 21 years later, an example of resiliency and hope. I stand before you today a woman so strong in her desire to advocate for the rights and protection of women and children. 

I started the process of healing by embracing my grief and allowing my heart, my body and my mind to process the trauma. The grief was mine, and I knew that I needed to allow my whole being to carefully process what had happened. 

I had a wonderful husband and family, who were my amazing support system. I am one of the very few victims of domestic violence who had a support system. Many victims have no one. Their abuser has managed to isolate them from all friends and family and everyone that loves them. 

My entire family went on a crusade. We began our healing by being proactive. We all became advocates for victims of Domestic Violence as a family who spoke out about the laws that needed to be changed and applied. We held attorneys, judges, law enforcement, and the fire department accountable for their lack of action.

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As a family, we put up billboards, printed magazines, and my mother and I both began to speak up and speak out. We, as a family, sought counseling together, and we healed by thrusting ourselves into trying to help others who were suffering with violent partners or with a justice system that just won’t listen. 

During the hardest times in our lives, helping others helped us. 

Domestic violence is a broad topic. It is not black and white; it is not just broken bones and black eyes and bruises. It is hard for many people to understand the dynamics of Domestic Violence. 

The unique part of my story is that Henry never physically abused me. His form of abuse was mental and emotional abuse, intimidation, and he used his uniform and his influence to control both Leah and me. 

If you think that a mental and emotional abuser does not kill, well, the proof lies in a tiny grave.

A year after Miranda was murdered, I found out that Henry had approached a fellow firefighter to see if he might know someone who would kill my family and me. 

Henry was planning a hit. This man was so upset, and he reported it to his Captain. The Captain did not take it seriously and never reported it to the Chief. 

Over the past 21 years, I have spent my time advocating for victims and bringing more awareness to DV. I have traveled the world with my husband, who just recently retired from the Air Force after 27 years of service. I have raised two amazing children, now 19 and 17. 

Now I am back home, I have come full circle, and my goal is to take this place by storm. More than anything, I want to collaborate with our law enforcement and our justice system and our Domestic Violence organizations to help educate our community and this wonderful state that I love so much. 

Photo by Andrea Piacquadio from Pexels

This is my calling. This is what I want to do until I take my last breath. I will NEVER be silenced. I will ALWAYS be Miranda’s voice and the voice for victims whose voices have been silenced by domestic homicide. 

I would also like to add that regardless of the sad circumstances of Miranda and Leah’s murders, I am forever grateful and supportive of our law enforcement and our first responders. Domestic Violence calls have proven to be one of the most dangerous calls for our police officers. 

I can only imagine how hard it was for police to pull their triggers that day and take down a mad man. I know and felt the overwhelming disbelief and sadness that Henry’s fellow firefighters felt the day they had to look down at a small child and fellow brother and pull the blanket over their faces. 

During Miranda’s funeral, the back half of the large church we attended, was a sea of blue. It was standing room only. We even had a police escort for the 2 ½ hour drive to our family plot. 

Miranda’s birthday is January 16th. She died on January 12th just four days shy of her 4th birthday. Every year I allow myself to grieve, and I allow myself to celebrate this little life I so beautifully created. 

As strange as it may seem to all of you, I thank the universe for this horrific experience. It has taken years to realize this experience was a gift. I could only be grateful when I realized that I would have rather known her for just a second than never at all. 

I would rather endure the inexplicable pain of outliving her than to have never seen her precious face or spoken her sweet name. I am genuinely and deeply grateful to Miranda for choosing me to be her mother. 

I am the one who would be able to fight for her like no other. Not only fight for her but fight for a cause that has plagued our society for centuries, violence against women.

Women should NOT have to die so that others may stay alive. 

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In closing, I would like to share with you one of my favorite quotes by Oprah Winfrey. To me, it is just so profound, and it touched me, and it made so much sense to me. She says, “I have interviewed and portrayed people who have withstood some of the ugliest things life can throw at you, but the one thing they all seem to share is the ability to maintain HOPE. Hope for a brighter morning, even during our darkest nights.”

I stand before you today a perfect example of what hope is.

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