Last Dance, Last Chance

for her to vomit and suffer from stomach pains; she had had bouts of nausea and pain since the first of the year, and she assumed that was just her way of responding to extreme stress.
    But the stress and worry went on and on. Debbie’s children were the most precious people in her world; she would walk over hot coals for them. Perhaps because she had lost two babies, she was understandably protective of Ralph and Lauren. She worried about their safety.
    First there were the vandals and the phone threats, and then the most terrifying thing of all occurred. A disturbed student at Ralph’s school had apparently harbored deep hatred for several of his fellow students. A note, allegedly written by this boy, outlined his plan to smuggle a gun into school in his violin case. He wanted to eliminate his enemies and then kill himself. He had a list of the students he had targeted. Ralph’s name was fourth on that list.
    The note describing the planned attack had been intercepted in time, and the student was referred to counseling. But adding this aborted horror scene to the injustices he believed had been done to him and his family, Anthony blamed it all on the media and somehow on the justice system. He told everyone who would listen that he and his family were being harassed and threatened continually. He vowed to protect them.
    In steady increments, Anthony had moved all the way back in with Debbie, Ralph, and Lauren. By July 1999, he had all of his clothes and belongings out of his apartment and into the duplex in West Seneca.
    Debbie’s expectations were nowhere near as high as they had been six months earlier when she and Anthony had their second wedding ceremony. “His mother made him move back, I think,” she said. “If he hadn’t come home, she was going to cut off his money, and he couldn’t have that happen.”
    Anthony seemed to be trying to be nice to them, but it was hard to believe in him.
    As for Anthony, he said he still felt edgy, believing that someone stalked them constantly—someone who watched their windows after the sun set. He blamed the planned student massacre, the event that was more than he could stand.
    “This was the straw that broke the camel’s back. We resolved that if there was any chance for reconciliation and healing that we needed to get out of the area.”
    All of Anthony’s siblings now lived in Florida. His sister, Antoinette, was a physician there, and his brothers owned several Dairy Queen franchises. Anthony told Debbie that they would create a good job for him if only he could get the judge to grant him permission to leave the State of New York.
    He was on felony probation, and if they were going to move to another state, his probation would have to be transferred. He hadn’t bothered to consult Judge Tills about the job he sought in Pennsylvania; that was close enough to Buffalo that he might have been able to pull it off and still see his probation officer for his scheduled visits.
    Now, he consulted an attorney who told him there should be no problem at all obtaining permission for him to move from New York State. But New York State said no. Judge Tills declined his request. The Department of Corrections and the District Attorney’s office believed it would be too easy for Pignataro to disappear from the probation system if he moved so far away. Perhaps they all realized that Anthony was very familiar with Puerto Rico and that he might be planning to slip across the water from Florida. Indeed, if he got to Puerto Rico, he might even reestablish himself as a physician.
    Debbie would have gone with him if Anthony had received a nod from the judge to move, but she dreaded the thought of leaving her mother and her brother’s family behind. She was relieved when Anthony didn’t get permission to go.
    “What I didn’t know then,” Debbie would recall, “was that if we had moved to Florida, I would be dead now. There’s no question in my mind that I wouldn’t be here.”
     
    It is almost impossible for anyone who has not been the target of domestic violence—either physical or emotional—to understand just how many breakups and reconciliations have to take place in combative marriages before the battered party finally manages to separate for good. One support group for victims of domestic violence points out that it takes an average of eleven separations before a final split occurs. And it doesn’t matter how intelligent or well-educated the victim is.