I confess every time I see the film The Godfather, I take great satisfaction watching Sonny Corleone “whup” the daylights out of his brother-in-law Carlo Rizzi for beating his sister Connie. A part of me wishes we had a few more Sonny Corleones. Yes, it is a gut reaction based on the belief bullies should get a taste of their own medicine. Unfortunately, if it did become reality, we would be jailing the Sonny Corleones of the world and leaving the abusers to walk free.
When my sister married in 1980, I told my future brother-in-law — a sharp, successful U.S. Air Force officer — I was so happy he was joining the family, but if my sister ever told me he laid a hand on her in anger, I did not care where they lived, I would sell everything I had in a search to find him. He laughed and told me he issued the same promise to his sister’s husband, when she got married. He turned out to be an exceptionally good man.
The truth is karmic lessons seem lost on actual abusers. The violence and fear they inflict never stops. After a brief pause, they just go right on hurting those around them.
Even in The Godfather, Carlo survives his comeuppance only to help plot the murder of Sonny which, with Carlo’s later death, leaves the Corleone family two men short and having to care for two widows and their children.
Domestic violence is all around us and North Texas is no stranger to this problem. I remember a unique event in 2013. The Texas Council on Family Violence had crowned Dallas County the most dangerous place in Texas for women. Twenty women in the county had been killed by a husband, boyfriend or lover. Twenty lives ended by the man with whom each of the victims shared her existence.
It was not a recognition anyone wished to celebrate. Then-mayor of Dallas, Mike Rawlings, held a Saturday morning men’s rally in support of changing attitudes about domestic violence. Thousands showed up at City Hall to support him in that effort. Everyone listened. Some changed their lives. A few did not.
While the Houston area has reclaimed the crown for most dangerous place for women in Texas, there is still more than enough work to be done in North Texas.
It is not as if there are no shelters — no people throwing a lifeline to victims or offering abusers the help they need to stop. Genesis Women’s Shelter, The Family Place, Promise House in Dallas County, and others like Safehaven in Tarrant County, plead daily for anyone caught in a cycle of violence to reach out to them.
No one who knows about abuse thinks escaping is easy. Victims of violence live in fear. Knowing the abuse they have already experienced, they worry about their safety and say little to nothing. Some even express concern about what will happen to their abuser once the authorities get involved.
Plus, every day they see the reputations of the victims of Harvey Weinstein and the accusers of Bill Cosby dragged through the mud. Rarely do they have the evidence to publicly confront their abuser. Sean “Diddy” Combs denied any abuse until the hotel video of him beating his ex-girlfriend Cassie Ventura in a hallway surfaced and removed all doubt.
In 2022, the Texas Council on Family Violence tracked 216 cases in which someone killed their domestic partner. More often than not, it was a current partner who did the killing, not an ex. And a high number of those who died were people who had made an effort to get help.
It is hard to imagine living in a house with the one person you most fear, or falling asleep next to the one individual most likely to put you in the hospital, and then waking up the next morning only to do it all over again.
But 1 in 3 Texans will experience some form of domestic violence in their lifetime. Too many Texas women (and men) continue to live in fear because the one-time “person of their dreams” has become the frightening reality of their nightmares.
Recognizing the danger, Dallas city officials acted. Shortly after taking the helm at the Dallas Police Department, Chief Eddie García unveiled a strategic plan for combating domestic violence. More detectives now investigate these cases, and home checks of victims and their alleged abusers, a practice once halted, have resumed.
We do not need more Sonny Corleones. Revenge beatings do not stop abusers from their behavior. They only reduce the rest of us to their level of cruelty and criminality.
But we must also do all we can to rid ourselves of the Carlo Rizzis among us. That means keeping no more secrets when we know abuse exists, even if we love the perpetrator. It means a society-wide transformation supporting victims and removing the shame and suspicion that goes along with their decision to report mistreatment. It means paying more attention to shelters and advocates who have, for years, called on us to recognize what is happening behind closed doors.
It means no more excuses.
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