During the time that John Goosen was assaulting me, I found one thing very strange. He would hiss insults at me as he twisted my wrists and shoulders, wrench me into wrestling submission moves. Growl threats while throwing me around. Spit in my face with his quiet words meant to tell me how much pain he was going to inflict on me, as he kneed me and held me down. And then, after I would cry out for him to let me go; he would shout, “I’ll let you go as soon as you calm down!”. That happened 5 or 6 times. I would reply that I was calm. “I am calm. I’m completely calm. Just let me go and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”
It didn’t make any sense to me at the time. Even in the state of things, I was at odds with myself at how calm I was. Part of my mind kept insisting that I needed to fight back, to get out, to shout for help. But something kept me from doing any of that. There was a calmness that I could not comprehend, but that kept telling me I couldn’t give him any reason to feel justified with what he was doing. So why did he keep shouting for me to calm down?
It wasn’t until the last minutes, where he was choking me and banging my head against the walls, that I couldn’t stay calm. The survival instinct was louder than the calm voice for just those last few minutes. And even then, once I decided to stop fighting and let him kill me, I was crying for my children, for their loss. I was crying, but I was not hysterical until I heard the knock on the door.
I remember thinking that the only thing he was truly shouting was for me to calm down. It didn’t make any sense.
Immediately after I was assaulted, I went to the local police station. They told me to go to the hospital and get checked out.
So I did.
As I left the hospital, with Caroline, John Goosen drove up. He started shouting at me from the vehicle that I had to listen to him. He had more to say to me. He got out of the vehicle and took a few steps towards us, still shouting profanities, insults, and demanding that I listen to him.
I ignored him. We kept walking back to the Police Station.
He got back in his vehicle and drove off. He had parked at Louis and Caroline’s house, halfway between the hospital and the police station. He was standing on the side walk, in the shadows of an already dark street. Then as we got closer he started in again.
I kept walking. Kept on ignoring. Gave my report.
The next morning, I found out that during the time I had gone to the police station and then to the hospital, John Goosen had called my mama.
In that call he told her, in his best concerned voice, that he was so worried about me because I had been acting like I was possessed and that he’d had to restrain me to keep me from hurting myself or him. What could she do to help him help me?
He spread rumors that I had been drunk and he had needed to calm me down. Police went to ask others who had been with us that night, how I’d been behaving, what they thought had happened.
He knew before he even locked me in the room, how to play the crowd, so that he could avoid any consequences for what he planned to do. He flipped his whole persona, put it all into place, acting the concerned citizen, immediately after he attacked me.
And then flipped back and continued to harass me afterward. He tried to get me to react. Tried to find a way to make me do something to look the way he was trying to paint me.
He knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t acting crazy. He didn’t “have a moment”. He didn’t just snap. He planned it out.
His “calm down” shouts, were his alibi. His call to Jean was an attempt to deflect anything I said to her afterwards.
John Goosen knew exactly what he was doing the whole time. It was a premeditated act of violence by someone who had done this enough times to know how to premeditate it. He knew where to hit to not leave visible bruises. He knew the twists and holds that inflict pain and injury without leaving marks. He knew to say some things loud and everything else soft. He knew exactly what he was doing.
I keep writing because I want his name to come up on Google. I want someone else trying to find out if he’s OK to visit, to know that he’s not. I couldn’t put him in jail where he belongs. But I have to do something, to do my part in protecting his next potential victim. How I wish that whoever else he has assaulted had written something I could find. He had no concerns at all in telling me to look him up. He knew nothing was out there. He doesn’t now.
I know he reads this blog. Now he knows his name and what he’s done is out there. I will continue to put his name out there for the world to see. This is the only way I have to try and inform, to protect.