EPILOGUE

This book started for me when I opened my in-box one morning and found an unsolicited e-mail from Anne Bridges Johnson’s second husband, Tom Johnson, who wanted his wife’s story told. Anne and Tom married in October 2013.

Hello, Sir,

My name is Tom Johnson. I’m from Linden, Alabama. My wife is Anne Johnson. I understand you are a very busy man, but my wife . . . was shot, held captive by a madman. . . . The story goes on and she could tell you much more. The trial was a laughing matter, rural county Alabama. The man’s mother tried to meet with Anne. . . . The man only got ten years. . . . I hope that I have piqued your interest enough to at least talk with her.

Thanks for your time.

Regards,

Tom Johnson

Since Tom initiated this project, I asked him for a final comment:

Anne told me the story of what happened to her, one night on the phone when we first started talking. In high school Anne and I were a couple years apart, Jimmy Williams a couple years behind me in school.... I just remember crying for hours that night after we talked, and I could not believe, out of all the people I knew, Anne Honeycutt Bridges had been shot by Jimmy Williams.

Anne was always one of the “beautiful belles of the ball” in Linden; at one time I carpooled with Jimmy Williams to junior college. They were two people who would never cross paths in my mind.

Jimmy doing something like this was no surprise, but his victim being Anne was a complete shock. He has gotten away with so much in his life and never had to pay for it.... I have news for Jimmy: God has your Ultimate Sentence waiting on you.

Anne Johnson: You are the love of my life. I am so blessed that God placed us together. I love you the mostest!

This is my third book in the She Survived series. Each book has told a different story about violence against women and yet there is a common denominator in all three of the cases: the unreserved will to survive. This might sound clichéd, but please think about that statement in the context of the story you’ve just read. Anne was shot in the back; her lung, liver, and diaphragm were pierced by steel BBs, a wound in her shoulder just a whisper from a major artery. Not only did she survive those severe wounds, but she also spent hours with a pistol trained on her. She survived with the hope she would somehow get out of the situation and make it to the hospital in time. That, alone, is the definition of will. We can learn so much from someone like Anne.

I will never forget April 17, 1998. Never in my entire life would I have ever imagined this would have happened to me. Isn’t that the way we all think? I remember asking the Lord to forgive me of my sins, while at the same time asking Him to help me. All I could think of was that I would never get to tell my son good-bye and he would never realize that he was my reason for being. I could not imagine what his life would have been like if I had died in Jimmy’s house or during my weeks of being in a coma. His grandmother and I were the only constant people in his life.

Every time I wanted to go to sleep, I would stop myself. Every time I needed to breathe, I willed myself. Everyone’s faith is not the same, but my faith tells me God was not through with me and there was more for me to do in this world.

All of the survivors I have interviewed, even beyond this series, tell me something similar about the trauma they endured: Yes, physical wounds hurt, and the pain was the most intense they had ever felt; yet it is the emotional scarring, the memories, the night terrors, and the PTSD that hurt and paralyze more than anything else.

Yes, it was a night I will never forget. Not just the physical pain and scarring I went through, but most of all, the emotional turmoil and trauma during and after the incident—even to this day, some twenty years later, as of this writing. I can cover up the physical scars, but my emotions are on the table. It has not changed the fact that I will always try to help someone, but I am much more cautious about who I help.

At first, I felt so much guilt that I had gotten myself into such a situation, but time changed that for me. I have a closer relationship with my son. Being sixteen is difficult enough, but even worse when you think that your mother might die. I became a speaker for several organizations. I began working with teenage girls in the ministry field and high-school students in a Christian organization and even met the man of my dreams.

Jimmy Williams may have brought me down, but my strength from my Lord lifted me up. Jimmy will not victimize me over and over again. I will not give him that.

I am a survivor.

I asked Anne to speak directly to victims of violent crime. Some words of empowerment for that victim out there suffering alone, in silence, just waiting for the right moment to come forward, extend a hand and ask for help. Mainly, why is it so important to tell your story—not necessarily in book form like this, but to authorities and your loved ones.

So many rumors were flying about what happened and how it happened, that is one reason why I wanted to publish this book. Everything you read here is the truth. Now everyone knows. The most important reason for me to speak out, however, is to help other victims. First of all, please remember—beyond anything anyone will tell you, including that voice inside your own head—it is not your fault. I am fortunate that I had a lot of family and friends supporting me. But I would also suggest you talk to someone you trust and who genuinely cares for you.

Whatever your faith may be, rely on it, lean on it, utilize it. Being a violent crime survivor (I don’t want to use the term “victim”) does not suggest you came from a bad home life, or that you are destitute, or uneducated, or a drug addict, or an alcoholic. I was none of those. I was someone who trusted an individual. Last, but not least, never, ever give up. There is always a reason to live.

Lastly, Anne wanted to mention and honor Robert Henry, who worked for the DA’s office handling her case. Mr. Henry died shortly after the trial. He was jogging one afternoon in the Selma Memorial Park and dropped dead from a massive heart attack.

“I would have never gotten Jimmy convicted if it wasn’t for Robert. He was so good to me and made such nice remarks about me in and out of court. My heart breaks every time I think of his death. He was a good man.”