Update on Mary Vincent, Victim of Larry Singleton
Patty
Two decades of torment end for assault survivor Mary Vincent
BY JULIA PRODIS SULEK
Mercury News Staff Writer
On her big night, Mary Vincent thanked Gov. Gray Davis for his support of
crime victims and presented him with the charcoal portrait of him she had
sketched, using only her plastic forearms and hooks for hands.
``I never looked better,'' the governor told her as he accepted the lifelike
drawing. He called her an artist and kissed her on the cheek.
At that moment, Mary Vincent never felt better. Wearing a new cocktail dress
with long sleeves discreetly covering her mechanical arms, she stood beaming
on the podium as 350 people applauded.
The evening last month in Sacramento was a coming out of sorts for the
36-year-old woman whose forearms and hands were hacked off by a rapist who
left her for dead near Modesto when she was just 15.
Since 1978, she had been living in fear and near poverty. In a constant
cower, she was afraid to utter the name of her attacker, Lawrence Singleton.
His final words to her made her shrivel: ``If it's the last thing I do, I'm
going to finish the job.''
Over the last several months, however, Vincent has rediscovered her hands
for drawing and her soul for speaking out. But to get to this place of
confidence and peace, she's traveled a hellish journey.
``I lost 20 years of my life. I'm not going to lose another 20,'' Vincent
said in a recent interview. ``I'm going to do everything I can to be bigger
than life -- to make a difference in life.''
In the fall of 1978, she was a high school dropout and runaway from Las
Vegas. Hitchhiking on a freeway on-ramp in Berkeley, Vincent hopped in
Singleton's blue van.
Left to die
Singleton, a former seaman, pulled off Interstate 5 near Modesto. In a
flash, Vincent saw a hammer behind her, cracking down on her head. Singleton
tied Vincent's hands behind her back and raped her repeatedly. She screamed
for him to release her.
``You want to be set free? I'll set you free,'' he said. He untied her
hands, then sunk an ax into her left forearm. Three blows and it was gone.
It took four blows to sever the right.
Singleton dumped her into a culvert off a lonely road.
Somehow she survived the night, dozing off at times, then wandered naked and
bloody until the sun came up. The young men in the first car that stopped
were so horrified they sped away. Eventually, a second vehicle came along --
newlyweds who were lost -- and they took her to call for help.
Vincent remained in the hospital for a month and was fitted with prosthetic
arms with crab-like pincer hooks for hands. She testified against Singleton,
and as she left the witness stand, he swore he would kill her one day.
She moved from place to place, unskilled and unable to get work. She ended
up in Gig Harbor, Wash., a Puget Sound town near Tacoma.
At age 23, she had a son. With three or four inches of forearm remaining
below each elbow, she could still cradle him. And when she laid the infant
down to change his diaper, he would lift his legs and move his hips into
place.
As the baby got a little older and fell asleep in his mother's arms, he
would call the blunt end of her arms ``soakies.'' It was a little boy's way
of saying ``soft and squishy'' -- squishy for the one that would rub his
back and soft for the one that would caress his face.
Three years later, Vincent married a landscaper -- a young man who made her
laugh -- and thought her life would improve.
But on her wedding day -- while still in her white gown -- a guest told her
something that would terrorize her for years.
Lawrence Singleton had been freed from San Quentin. He had served just eight
years. She barricaded herself in her home and felt faint at every knock on
her door.
Fear and guilt
Vincent was fragile, and so was her 23-year-old husband. They had a new baby
and fought over the possibility that Singleton would find them one day and
slaughter them all. Her husband was deteriorating before her eyes. She
seemed to have this effect on anyone who got close to her. Her friends, her
relatives -- she considered them like Faberge eggs that were inevitably
shattered because of her. She was guilt-ridden.
They divorced in three years. She gave her ex-husband custody of their
child. He would be safer.
Vincent lived on and off welfare for years, wearing her mechanical arms to
bed, terrified that Singleton would lunge at her in the middle of the night.
For a while, she had a nice Tacoma home. But in 1995, she declared
bankruptcy and moved into the unheated garage of an abandoned gas station
with a new boyfriend. He was 23 years older than she, and he voiced rumors
that Singleton had been spotted nearby. He promised to protect her. He kept
watch with a machete.
Her nightmares were instant replays of her abduction, in slow motion. She
dreamed in color.
Vincent became anorexic and bulimic, shrinking to under 100 pounds. In the
wet Washington weather, her arms began to rust.
In February 1997, her mother called with the news.
``He struck again.'' Vincent dropped the phone. Singleton had been arrested
for killing a Florida woman.
Vincent garnered her strength and last year flew to Florida to testify at
Singleton's sentencing. Now 69, he was sent to death row.
And this was the beginning of Vincent's return to life. She was flooded with
media interviews across the country. And the public responded, including
many from the Bay Area. They donated money and offered to buy her new limbs.
U.S. Rep. Matt Salmon, R-Ariz., called and asked her to speak on behalf of
his bill, ``Aimee's law,'' which places financial responsibility for repeat
violent offenders on the state that releases them from prison.
Vincent flew to Washington, D.C., last July -- still anorexic, still unsure
of herself.
Gaining confidence
``I speak for all violent crime victims everywhere,'' she said softly,
before quickly sitting down.
She wondered how she could help others when she could barely help herself.
But it was a start.
In September, she returned to the Capitol, and this time read a two-page
statement before a congressional committee. She choked back tears but got
through it. She was getting stronger.
With a new set of arms and her attacker removed from society forever,
Vincent and her oldest son moved last fall to Southern California -- a warm
place where she had always dreamed of living. She got her first paying job
in Orange County's welfare fraud unit.
But she was still plagued by demons. When someone would come up behind her
unexpectedly, like Singleton did with the hammer, she would let out a
piercing scream. It was so chilling, employees would run out of their
offices to see who was being attacked. It happened regularly, and Vincent
believes one employee startled her purposely. She quit after three months --
but not before she met Tom Wilson, an investigator with the district
attorney's office in the same building.
When she looked up at him for the first time, he saw in her eyes a plea for
help.
He's been at her side ever since.
Tom, 52, was stronger than Vincent, someone who wouldn't break. She needed
that. They fell in love.
And for this 36-year-old woman who weighed 98 pounds, kept her head down and
wore nothing but sweats, he showed her a new world. He bought her a new
wardrobe and took her to the opera.
To pass the time, she sketched a couple of portraits in pencil. She didn't
realize she had talent.
For Christmas, Tom bought her an easel and a charcoal sketch kit. Using
album covers and magazines for subjects, she sketched images of celebrities.
She would take off her prosthetics and use the ends of her arms to rub in
shadows.
In February, they took a cruise. In 10 days, she gained 12 pounds and never
felt better.
They married in March.
``Mom's finally going to be safe,'' her boys, 10 and 12, said. She now has
custody of her youngest son half the time.
The couple bought a condominium with a loft for her art studio.
When Gov. Davis admired her work last month, she felt even more confident
that she could make a career of sketching portraits.
Marc Klaas, whose daughter, Polly, was kidnapped from her Petaluma home and
murdered in 1993, sat across the head table from Vincent at the Sacramento
banquet. They had met in Washington, D.C., the previous summer.
``The first few times I met Mary she was very, very quiet and very, very shy
and very, very skinny. The last time I saw her in April, there was a
tremendous change,'' Klaas said. ``She can be the most powerful victims'
advocate in America just by who she is and what she's accomplished.''
Harriet Salarno, president of Crime Victims United of California, which
invited Vincent to Sacramento, believes Vincent is in good hands with her
husband.
``He's so concerned and overprotective,'' Salarno said with approval.
`Blessed and happy'
Along with her sketching, Vincent is also beginning to record her thoughts
and memories for a possible book. In the past, she always turned down any
suggestion of a book because she thought her story was too horrific. Now,
she says, she has a happy ending.
``I knew if I just had hope and faith, God would come through,'' she said.
``He has a person here for me and a purpose for me living. I'm very blessed
and happy.''
Congressman Salmon calls Vincent ``selfless and heroic.''
``Mary has the capacity to really move people,'' Salmon said. ``I just
really hope that the heavens smile down on her, because it's her turn.''
Patty
glas wrote in message ...
>Thank you very much for posting this Patty. I have tried to keep abreast of
>what happens to this girl because this is one case that really gives me the
>creeps. That poor child was left for dead in that ditch. The fact that she
>managed to survive was only due to her strength and courage. Too bad that
it
>has taken her so long to find out how special she is.
>
>They should have never let that monster out of prison. He should have been
>treated as if he killed her because in his mind, that is exactly what he
>did.
>
>glas
>--
>alt.true-crime WebSite and FAQ can be found here -
>http://www.geocities.com/~alttruecrime/
>
>"A good friend will help you move...
> A REAL friend will help you move a body."
Didn't he serve out his probation on the grounds of San Quintin since every
town in California was fighting having him released in their vicinity? Then
he was sent to
I was happy to read that she is finally doing well with her life. The
actual San Jose Mercury article also had a picture of some of her charcoal
drawings. She is very talented!
Patty
glas
what happens to this girl because this is one case that really gives me the
creeps. That poor child was left for dead in that ditch. The fact that she
managed to survive was only due to her strength and courage. Too bad that it
has taken her so long to find out how special she is.
They should have never let that monster out of prison. He should have been
treated as if he killed her because in his mind, that is exactly what he
did.
glas
--
alt.true-crime WebSite and FAQ can be found here -
http://www.geocities.com/~alttruecrime/
"A good friend will help you move...
A REAL friend will help you move a body."
Patty <l...@ghi.com> wrote in message news:3752...@news1.jps.net...
Kris Baker
>Published Sunday, May 30, 1999, in the San Jose Mercury News
>Two decades of torment end for assault survivor Mary Vincent
Thanks, Patty -
I'm glad things are turning better for her; every time I've
seen a story on her in the past, it's been increasingly sad.
Kris
Patty
http://www.bayinsider.com/news/1999/06/01/vincent.html