Empty Promises

situation where she had to move in a hurry. Her landlord was an alcoholic and she was afraid of him. She answered the ad and arranged to meet Jami.
    “Jami was about twenty-two then,” Sally remembered. “She was very, very small.” Sally liked Jami and was relieved to learn that she could move into the extra bedroom in the mobile home without putting down a deposit or paying first and last months’ rent. Later she met Steve Sherer, Jami’s boyfriend. He seemed pleasant enough. He had long hair, and she wasn’t sure what he did for a living. It didn’t really matter, though, because Sally wasn’t looking for roommates with whom she had a lot in common; she just needed a place she could afford where her cat would be welcome, too. Jami and Steve said a cat would be fine with them. They occupied the master bedroom at the back of the mobile, they used one bedroom for their exercise equipment, and said Sally could have the extra one for only $300 a month.
    Sally had a job as a publicist for famous and wanna-be famous people, and it kept her so busy that she wasn’t home much. However, she accepted Jami and Steve’s invitation to join them for Thanksgiving dinner. The three of them posed for photos around a heavily laden buffet. She didn’t really know them, but she liked Jami, and Steve had a good sense of humor. Sally was planning to stay in the mobile home only long enough to build a nest egg so she could get her own apartment.
    There was nothing at all to warn Sally Kirwin that she had walked into a volatile situation. She had never been exposed to domestic violence and the thought never occurred to her.
    A few days before Christmas 1986, Sally was packing to head home to Wisconsin for the holidays. She was terribly afraid to fly, trying to psyche herself up for the next day. She accepted a beer Jami offered her and sat down with Jami and Steve, trying to relax and convince herself that flying was a perfectly safe mode of transportation.
    As they visited, she realized how little she knew about her housemates. She’d had a drink with Jami just that once, but Jami hadn’t confided in her; they had simply discussed the possibility of Sally’s moving in.
    Now Steve seemed to be on edge. He and Jami were arguing listlessly about something at his work, when he suddenly turned to Sally and said, “You think you’re too good for us, don’t you, Sally? You never bring your friends over to meet us.”
    She stared at him, sure that he must be kidding. She worked with a number of celebrities, but there was no reason to introduce them to Steve. She didn’t socialize with them very much herself. She just worked for them.
    Jami looked embarrassed and told Steve to mind his own business. As Sally watched them, stunned, the couple’s comments grew louder until they were yelling at each other.
    “It very, very quickly escalated into a fight—an all-out brawl,” Sally recalled. “They were screaming and shouting at each other. Glass was breaking.”
    As small as she was, Jami stood up to Steve. “This is it!” she screamed. “This is it. It’s over!”
    Steve made a move toward Jami and said, breathing heavily, “Shut the fuck up! I’ll kill you.”
    Horrified, Sally ran to grab the phone in her bedroom, but first she pushed Jami behind a table in the hallway to give her a little protection from Steve, who was trying to get to her, swinging his arms and swearing.
    Sally did manage to connect with 911 and let out a cry for help, but then she rushed out of her room to see that Steve was holding a kitchen knife. He had an odd, almost vacant look on his face. “Shut the fuck up,” he snarled at Jami. “I’ll kill both of you.” He was either drunk or crazy—and it had happened so rapidly.
    Sally believed him, but she could hear sirens approaching the mobile home park. She grabbed her cat and tossed it into her room. She didn’t know how she could help Jami, but she was going to try. For the moment, Steve couldn’t reach Jami where she huddled behind the table.
    With a sharp flick of his wrist, he turned the knife so that it pointed toward his own belly.
    “Steve!” Jami cried. “Don’t!”
    There was no expression on Steve’s face as he slid the knife into his flesh. Sally thought it must have been some sleight of hand until she saw blood burst from his belly. She was amazed that he was still on his feet, and then he disappeared. She wasn’t sure just how he got out of the trailer. By that time,