Life of Kim Dadou

She is Kim Dadou.

On December 17, 1991, in Rochester, New York, she was arrested after her boyfriend’s frozen corpse was discovered in a collapsed snowbank.

The routine of life before that day had been good for the 25-year-old; she worked as a respite counselor for the severely disabled, a job which was her favorite. She was earning good money, traveled, and was in a relationship. There was a sadness in her world through — her boyfriend, Darnell Sanders, was abusive.

They had been together for four and a half years by this point, and it is fair to say she had become accustomed to his short fuse. Whether it was just a quick slap in front of her mother or a prolonged beating, anything would trigger his anger. If she were a minute late home, even if he believed that she was only eyeing up one of his friends, no perceived misdemeanor was too small. These most trivial things put her at threat of getting hurt.

It was not as if she didn’t attempt an escape either. Sanders had been arrested for domestic abuse against her five times, but nothing ever came of the arrests. She had tried multiple times to get a restraining order against him, but he always twisted it to make her look like the attacker. Even after many sexual assaults, stab injuries, and a punctured lung, nothing was done.

Then on that fatal winter’s night in 1991, the relationship would fall in an explosive last confrontation. Despite everything, she liked him and wanted dearly for it to work out, so on that night, she was glad to see his car turn up outside. After going back in to fetch some air freshener, as the car reeked of weed and cocaine, she got into the car and the two of them started smooching. Things shortly went wrong when she refused to perform a sex act on him.

“Bitch, who are you giving my ass to?” he shouted at her.

When he attempted forcing himself on her though, she did not tolerate this time. She shoved him off, and a fight ensued. He smashed her in the face and thigh before grabbing her throat and squeezing. “This is it, bitch!” he cried at her. She attempted to go for the door handle, but it was locked. Time was running out as her breath escaped her, but then she thought that he kept a pistol in his car. She killed him, managed to get free, and ran.

Days later, the officer turned up at her door and she understood that he was dead. After hours of inquiry, she was charged with second-degree killing. On the guidance of her lawyer, who thought she had been crucified by the trial, she did not testify. As a result, the judge rejected to admit all the police statements, hospital certificates, women’s shelter statements, and witness statements. She’d even kept a diary, which was considered inadmissible for being too “prejudicial”.

She had done everything that was expected of a woman in her circumstances, but much of it was no use, and Dadou went down for manslaughter. She spent seventeen years in jail, her several parole requests rejected even though she’d kept out of the problem and laid low, even achieving two degrees in psychology and English literature. She also wrote and directed the welding unit.

When she got out of jail, she devoted her powers to fight for several sentencing for domestic abuse survivors. She’s delivered numerous speeches and became the face of the Domestic Violence Survivors Justice Act. She now works as a customer rep for the Association for the Blind and Visually Impaired and spends time with her spouse Annie Bell Brown, whom she met in 1991 after her incarceration.

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