Lorie Hino> And I remember raising that gun... [echoing boom] and turning my head and looking away... [echoing boom] and pulling the trigger.

[echoing boom] I fired that gun.

Beryl Dakers> On May 24, 1992, Lori Hino shot and killed her husband.

This is her story.

♪ ♪ Lorie> We met in high school, and actually were high school sweethearts.

He played football.

I was a cheerleader, homecoming queen.

We just had a really fun relationship.

After high school, of course, it ended.

He went one way, and I another.

♪ About ten years later, I ended up moving back, and we met again.

He was really fun.

He really was.

Always made me laugh... had a great sense of humor.

We actually had dated for some time before we even got married, and this was like ten years after the high school scene.

So at first I didn't have that husband-wife love.

I had that best-friend-type love, and it grew.

So, it was like two years, a year and a half before I started getting really deep feelings for him and realizing that I really love this man... I really care enough about him to spend the rest of my life with him.

♪ It was a few things that started happening then, like when we started dating and he'd drop me off, he'd ride back by the house to make sure I was okay, or he'd call me, "I just wanted to tell you, you know, good night and just to make sure you're okay."

I thought these things were just cute... I didn't think anything of them.

I thought, He loves me that much, he's concerned about my safety.

Every once in a while, someone would come up and talk to me, somebody from high school, you know, an old guy that I knew, or a girlfriend or something And I'm a big hugger.

I love people, and I'd hug 'em and stuff and say, "I'm glad to see you."

Hadn't seen them in 10 years.

It's been a long time.

And that bothered him, especially if it was a male, and he would say it bothered him, that "I don't like to see you hugging other people, especially when it's men."

And I was like, "Okay, I understand that."

"How would I feel?"

I kept trying to put myself in his shoes.

So that jealousy, at first, I thought was flattering.

You know, like, "Wow, he really, really cares about me."

I was flattered by it.

I thought, there's no problem here.

♪ And...but as time went by-- and this was still prior to our marriage-- as time went by, I noticed that more and more when I spoke to other people, he'd either walk off and he'd make some comment later, or he'd comment then that he was bothered by it.

And so when I started seeing people, I realized later that-- people that I knew-- I would deliberately avoid 'em.

♪ The first time I remember was a slap across the face, and I was shocked.

We were in a heated dispute, voices getting loud and stuff.

Anyway, his hand would slap me across the face.

And I remember just standing there in shock and then looking at his face, and that he was in shock too.

He was surprised that he had raised his hand and slapped me across the face and immediately changed his expression and came running to me and held me in his arms and apologized and said how sorry he was and that he loved me and he doesn't know why he acted that way and why he hit me.

So, we had been together at this point probably about a year and a half, two years, and I forgave him.

I thought, okay, you know, heated argument, everybody flies off the handle, people get angry, and, you know, I forgive him.

I think what started first was the possessiveness and jealousy that we talked about, and then that led into more of the hitting, the physical assaults.

The incident before we were married was forgiven and set aside, and then afterwards, after we were married, it became more of an ownership, "You're mine."

And at first it was very flattering.

This was a man, This is how I grew up to believe that a man was supposed to protect a woman, that he cared for her, and that a woman was the housekeeper, so I had some very set... gender roles that I had you know, had grown up with.

That was the way my mother and father lived and that's the way I thought it was supposed to be.

So when he came in with the decision making and the power and the basically "You're not doing this right," I accepted that.

There was still the occasional shove or push, but I think what hurt the most was the verbal abuse when it started and a lot of it, just with the feelings of worthlessness that I started feeling.

One of 'em was just simply, anything that came out of my mouth wasn't worth listening to.

That was one of the comments that I'd hear, that I was worthless and stupid, and couldn't do anything right and constantly being underminded.

I couldn't do as well, cook as well as his mother, or I didn't do well with the children or the house, or just so many things.

It seemed like I couldn't do anything right.

So, and I believed him.

♪ You think about someone, when they're beating somebody up, that they're out of control, but they're not.

He was very, very much in control, very deliberate in every move that he'd make.

And then, it would keep on and keep on with the verbal abuse until he had just gotten to the point where he'd get physical, and it would end up with being thrown over furniture, being drug across the carpet, being sat on, being strangled, being held up against the wall, banging my head against sheetrock... being...just awful things, like being spit on and punched and just socked in the face over and over and over.

The next morning, he would be so sorry.

He would hold me after the beatings.

He would just hold me, physically just wrap his arms around me and hold me until I accepted his apology and until I said, "I love you, and I promise I'm not going to leave."

That was how they always ended, with me promising that I'm not going to go anywhere, that I am going to accept his apology.

And I know the next day, he would always say, "Please go put some makeup on.

I'm so sorry for what I did to you."

And then I realized that at least he seemed hurt to me, that, that was hurting him looking at the black eyes, and the busted lip, that this was really hurting him.

And so I thought, I wanted him to hurt too.

I wanted him to hurt as bad as he was hurting me.

♪ I just kept coming up with different ways of being injured.

You know, "I fell down the steps" and the old thing, "I ran into the door," or "tripped over the dog" or "bumped my head," "had a car accident," just anything to get out of it, to not be confronted with what was really going on in my life Beryl> Why, why did you feel the need to cover it up?

Lorie> Because I thought it was all my fault.

[voice breaking] I thought it was my fault, and I can't tell you I'm such a sorry person that I deserve to look like this... because I was afraid you'd judge me.

♪ Some of these episodes would last for hours, until the wee hours of the morning at 3 or 4 o' clock in the morning, where he'd rip the telephone out and I couldn't even call for help or police.

[voice breaking] and here I was for hours being beaten and beaten... and sat on and punched... and screaming, and nobody...nobody was there.

Later on, we were together seven years, and later on it got to where I'd hit back.

He'd laugh... he'd laugh.

I weighed about 130 pounds.

He weighed about 230.

It didn't hurt him.

As time went by, weapons started coming into the picture.

First it was just like a... pick up a cup.

When I say "weapon," just anything, but it did get to guns and knives.

And then one night, I know had gone into the kitchen and got a knife.

He had beat me so bad at that point, it just didn't seem like it was going to stop.

I had this immense fear of this man.

That I knew if I did anything to him, I was going to get it back twice as bad.

I just remember being tumbled over carpet, being shoved over a back of a chair, and hit in the head so bad that you couldn't even lay your head on a pillow the bruising was so bad, and scrubbed across the carpet to where it'd burn your knees and arms.

And he would tear my clothes off... not for a sexual assault, but because I'd be naked, and I wouldn't run out of the house naked.

I couldn't leave if I didn't have any clothes on.

And he'd rip 'em off because they were clothes that he hadn't bought, that they were clothes that I owned before we were together.

And he had gone and gotten a shotgun, and I was kneeling on the floor, and he stuck it to my forehead.

And, without the language, it's, you know, "I ought to kill you," is what he said.

"I ought to blow your head off."

And I kept looking down, and he would hit me in the forehead with the barrel of the gun and force me to look back up at him and up the barrel of it.

And the fury and rage in his face... he was not the man I knew.

This was not the man I married.

This was a totally different person.

And I was so scared, I remember peeing in the floor.

Man> Look at me.

Lorie> I was just terrified, and he just kept saying, you know, "Why shouldn't I blow your head off?"

And threatening that that's what he was going to do.

I don't know what stopped him.

I don't know what kept him from pulling that trigger.

♪ My husband had a stepdaughter who lived with us, and we had a daughter between the two of us.

My child... became very violent, the young one.

The older one would hide when the abuse started.

She'd hide, and the young one would try to get in the middle of it... a real, real aggressive child.

She killed my birds.

She broke the cat's tail.

She was very, very cruel to the animals that we had, and I know now why.

It was because of what she was living in.

I remember one time the older child, the 12-year-old, did jump in, and he knocked her down, pushed her down.

That was the first time he'd hit the kids, the first time he actually struck one of the children.

But I knew too, that they saved my life a lot of times, that had it not been for them... intervening in some way that, um... I wouldn't be here today.

I did turn to family and friends, and of course I'd, you know, leave.

And I'd go stay with them They'd open their doors and their arms and take me in, and I'd promise I wasn't going to leave, I wasn't going to live in this anymore, and they'd be right behind me, supporting my decision.

But then, when he'd come over-- they were his family too.

When he'd come over, he'd beg and plead, and they'd feel sorry for him, and I'd feel sorry for him, and everybody was like, Aw, y'all will be okay, and it'll work out.

So I'd end up going back.

[sirens wailing] As far as calling the police, if the phone wasn't ripped out of the wall or tore up or destroyed, I got that opportunity to call the police.

They'd usually come in, sit down, and ask, "What can I do to make this better?"

And I don't think they really knew what to do.

I think they sincerely wanted to do something.

♪ The mandatory arrest laws weren't in place, and so they would basically drive off that night and no arrest made.

The abuse stopped for the evening because things had settled down, but he would just be right back within another week or another couple days, sometimes the very next day.

♪ So, this was Saturday, and I thought, well, I'm going to go out.

You know, I'm gonna go out... I know I'll run into him later.

So I went to a local place where we had friends and was in there that evening, and he came in about 12:30.

One thing led to another, and an argument started.

The place was full of people, and of course nobody was going to let him do anything physical at that point.

Then he had, um... threatened to get his gun, and the owner had followed him out to make sure that the gun wasn't, the pistol wasn't gotten, so to speak.

We were still, it just stayed like that all night, you know, with people basically between us and trying to talk to him and keeping him away from me and all.

I really was terrified at that point, but yet felt safe that they weren't, he wasn't going to do anything here, you know, there were too many people.

I got out of the car and went into the house.

My husband was on the couch.

And I went and picked up a gun.

I did.

I went in the bedroom where we kept a gun and picked it up.

I poked him with it, and I backed up, and I told him to get out.

♪ This was like 3:15 to 3:30 in the morning that this was happening, and about 3:30 is when I raised that gun.

I had, had it down by my side, and I remember raising that gun and turning my head and looking away and pulling the trigger.

And the gun went off... it did.

I fired that gun.

♪ My husband had a knife.

He had a knife.

♪ So it wasn't that he wasn't armed either.

I mean unarmed.

It just, um... ♪ I've always asked myself... Had I not acted, would I be sitting here today?

I don't think I would be.

[sirens wailing] [sirens wailing] [engine idling] The police came in, which... I knew the police.

So many of them had been there before.

And I remember, one of the officers walked in, and... he said, "Lorie, we always thought this would be you."

[engine idling] [doors slamming] [sirens wailing] ♪ I was...arrested... read my rights.

I think--I'm sure--I don't remember anything after that.

And was charged with murder, um, and went to jail.

And I pled guilty to voluntary manslaughter, because that's what I thought I did.

♪ I didn't know I was abused.

I remember I felt I deserved it, and that I was that sorry of a person.

And when my husband used to beat me, he'd, "Why do you make me do this to you?"

And so I took responsibility, so his death was all my fault.

That's how I looked at it, and I pled guilty because I felt I was guilty, that I was 100% percent responsible for what had happened.

♪ I think in the beginning, I didn't care.

I didn't care what you did to me.

I didn't care what I did to myself.

I just wanted to die.

I wanted to die because I killed the only man I'd ever loved.

[sobbing] ♪ When I left to go to prison, my stepdaughter went back to live with her mother, but I had a five-year-old with blonde hair and blue eyes, a beautiful baby... who I had to put up for adoption.

I was sentenced to 18 years, and I didn't know-- 18 years was a long time-- I didn't know anything about prison time or prison sentences.

I didn't know what parole was.

I didn't know anything about any of that.

I figured I'd do 18 years and that my daughter would be 23 and that she needed somebody.

And, um... I had to tell her, you know, "You got a new mom and daddy now, and... you got to go stay with them."

♪ I was pregnant when I went into prison, and I didn't know what to do.

I really didn't.

I mean, I had some options and stuff, but I didn't know what to do.

She stayed with me for... nine months.

And... ♪ laying in the prison bed and feeling her kick, that was my company.

That was something that... that was mine, that was close to me... that I could have and hold inside that prison.

♪ They had, let me stay in the hospital for three days to recover, so I did get to see her and bond with her for those first few days.

♪ And then I had to go back to prison... and my daughter was put in a carryall, ♪ and I watched her walk out of my room.

♪ And I went back to prison.

♪ [iron bars slam] I remember shortly after I went to prison, there was a big big article in "The State" newspaper-- I think it was on the front page of the Metro-- where they had interviewed two women that were in prison that had killed their husbands, and I thought, Wow, this is the first time ever that someone's looked into this, about these women that are killing their husbands.

And I thought, They're gonna understand what happened... they're going to understand what I did.

And I remember picking up that Sunday paper ...and thinking, Look, I'm coming home... I'm coming home.

[sobbing] I just thought somebody was going to see... and understand what really happened... and say... "We were wrong... come home."

But they didn't.

I stayed seven years... [iron bars slam] in prison.

Prison... introduced me to a... support group, um... where I learned... About 15 other women sitting in that room were telling my story, about the abuse, about how they had been treated, and I remember sitting there thinking, God, did they know my husband?

I mean, they were telling my story.

And what a wonderful feeling that was, to know that I wasn't alone.

But...what a sad thing that it was and very difficult to move from, realizing that nobody deserves to be beaten, which included me.

♪ ♪ ♪ And they're always asking questions to victims.

You know, "Why don't you leave?"

Because they don't have the power to leave.

They don't have that ability, whether it be that the abuser has power over the finances, that the abuser actually has power over the automobiles, the abuser actually has power over the children... you know, threats, "You'll never see your kids again.

These are my kids.

I'll make sure you never see 'em again."

So these type of things, and... those threats, I believed them.

My husband was more powerful than an officer, than any support system, than anybody else, and you couldn't have told me any different.

That's just how-- and rightfully so-- I believed it, that he was the strongest, and he had proved that to me plenty of times over those seven years, that there wasn't any way out... there wasn't any way to get away.

And I know now the only way that we would have ever separated is exactly how it happened.

One of us would have to be dead.

♪ ♪ Remember my name... ♪ ♪ 'cause I ♪ can't right now ♪ ♪ remember myself.

♪ ♪ I'm tryin'.

♪ ♪ ♪ Darkness can grow ♪ ♪ if you let ♪ some things go.

♪ ♪ Drip into ♪ the roots ♪ ♪ of the hurt ♪ parts in you.

♪ ♪ I may be ♪ your friend, ♪ ♪ but he'll ♪ just find me again.

♪ ♪ If I leave, ♪ I'm not free.

♪ ♪ There's ♪ no protection.

♪ ♪ ♪ The last time ♪ was the last time, ♪ ♪ is the last time, ♪ or the next time.

♪ ♪ Where did ♪ the last time go?

♪ ♪