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Male Domestic Abuse, The Jeffery Dryden Murder Case, Grand Rapids, Michigan
Local Grand Rapids, Michigan Author, Troy Veenstra of Veenstra Publishing, begins work on his latest book about his cousin, Jeffery Dryden, Abuse and horrific Murder
Fizer, who claimed the murder was an accident, was later charged with 2nd degree murder in the death. Court records indicated prior incidents of Domestic Abuse had occurred in the past between Fizer and Dryden with Fizer being the abuser, with the most recent charge prior to the murder being occurring three months prior. Fizer had also used a knife in that assault. During the preliminary hearing, it was stated by the Chief Medical Examiner, that the way the knife entered through the neck, it was highly improbable, (if not impossible) that the knife slipped as stated by FIzer and that the angle and depth of the knife into the neck revealed that there was “a good degree of strength,” behind the blade.
On June 14th of this year (2011) Fizer was sentenced to 14 and ½ years to 45 years in prison after she pleaded no contest to the charge of 2nd degree murder for the death of Jeff Dryden. Though evidence previously stated otherwise, Fizer continued to state that it was an “accident.”
Troy Veenstra, who’s prior written works include such books as “Titanic: Echo of the Dying Confession and “The Heat of Passion Doctrine: Killing Your spouse and Getting Away with Murder.” Has taken on the task of writing this book from his personal perspective in the hopes to inform the public of the growing, yet highly ignored crime of Male Domestic Abuse. It is his hope (As well as Paula Dryden, Jeff’s Mother) that by telling Jeff Dryden’s untimely murder and the abuse he suffered under the hand of his girlfriend that people will begin to take this crime seriously and perhaps prevent other men from becoming murder victims in the future.
What follows is an excerpt from the beginning of this book, currently titled, “The Jeff Dryden Murder: The Grim Truth Surrounding Male Domestic Abuse:
It was still dark when they arrived at her home, the damp summer humidity leaving a slight eerie heaviness in the air. Slowly they roamed through the slight blades of damp grass like dark shadows of despair, having called before hand, giving the victim of their news a slight awareness of dread and despair. Walking up the slightly lopsided wooden steps, preparing themselves for the situation that was about to unfold, like countless other times before their eyes. They prepared for the gut wrenching cry, the weep of dread and sadness, remembering the sound from previous times before; they prepared to hear them yet again.
I would like to think that Detective Pols of the Wyoming Police Department held Paula’s (my Aunt’s) hand firmly in his grasp, gazing into her troubled eyes. I imagine he could already see the dread, the horror of the unknown echoing through her as a distant memory from her past rumbled through her like a torrential storm. Those same passionate words, the decry of sympathy, spoken years earlier by other officers of the law when she was told of her husband committing suicide and leaving her with their twin boys. The sadness and sorrow, the tear stricken grief of a mother lost in misery after told her 28-year-old son, was dead, murdered, the victim of a domestic homicide.
To think of the pain she felt at that moment disturbs me now even a year later, as I am sure that the sanity of it all crashed down upon her like a consuming wave, only becoming worse with trepidation and confusion as Detective Pols spoke those sickly words of grief and sorrow to her. His voice soft yet firm, caring yet stern, as he told her that Jeff, her first-born, her baby, had been stabbed in the neck and that her son had passed away. Only to follow those words of grief, of sadness with even more distraught and horrendous news, by telling her that they believed the monster that killed him, the woman; the abuser that took her baby from her was his very own girlfriend.
I can only imagine the heaviness she felt in her heart as her mind raced with images of her fallen son. Her legs weakening with each passing thought, buckling to the strain, succumbing to the devastating heartache and fury as her mind continued to race through all the recollections, all the happy memories, shattering through her head like shards of broken glass. Falling down to the floor, lost in an inferno of sadness mixed with hate, confusion mixed with loss, of outright horror and shock. It pains me to think of it now, what horrors ran through her, what dread fixed upon her soul that moment, those seconds, those breaths after being told of such a loss and death.
It was my mother Roxanne, whom told me that they came to her in this way, leaving her dreadfully in the news of this great misfortune. Leaving her in complete shock, leaving her to reach out to those she could count on the most; reaching out to her family, her sisters who came, ever so willingly, ever so lovingly, to her aid.
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Veenstra Publishing is a publisher resourced for readers as well as Michigan authors wishing to remain full owners of their creative works, but may not know enough about the publishing business to get their book and name to the public.