Dugard - Freedom: my book of firsts

also by jaycee dugard

a stolen life

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First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition July 2016

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Jacket design by Jackie Seow

Jacket photographs courtesy of the Author

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Dugard, Jaycee Lee, 1980 | Dugard, Jaycee Lee, 1980 Stolen life.

Title: Freedom: my book of firsts / Jaycee Dugard.

Other titles: Freedom

Description: First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition. | New York : Simon & Schuster, 2016. | Simon & Schuster nonfiction original hardcoverTitle page verso.

Identifiers: LCCN 2016016388 (print) | LCCN 2016017705 (ebook) | ISBN 9781501147623 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781501147647 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Dugard, Jaycee Lee, 1980 | Kidnapping victimsCaliforniaBiography. | Sexually abused childrenCaliforniaBiography. | Young womenCaliforniaBiography. | Freedom. | Life skills. | Self-actualization (Psychology) | BISAC: BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Personal Memoirs. | BIOGRAPHY & AUTOBIOGRAPHY / Women. | SELF-HELP / Abuse.

Classification: LCC HV6574.U6 D8 2016 (print) | LCC HV6574.U6 (ebook) | DDC 364.15/4092 [B]dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016016388

ISBN 978-1-5011-4762-3

ISBN 978-1-5011-4764-7 (ebook)

I dedicate this book to my mom and all the moon moms who hold on to hope!

I want to acknowledge the tremendous support and encouragement I had in even writing this book. I would like to thank Mort Janklow and my publisher Jonathan for letting me, not once, but twice tell the story my way and for always believing I could, even if at times I had my doubts.

To my mom, who by example has taught me patience and unconditional love. To my aunt Tina, who continues to share the magic with me. To my sister, who shines from within and without whenever she walks into a room and who always tells me how proud she is of mewell, girl, Im so proud of you, too! And to my two daughters, who give me gray hairs before Im forty but constantly remind me what true resilience looks like: Im so darn proud of you both.

I want to also acknowledge all of the people that have sent out their love protons to me and my family throughout our terrible/grand adventure.

I want to thank Monkey and Nanny Goat for always having my back and for giving me so much. I cant imagine my life without either one of you.

Last of all, I want to acknowledge and thank all the people that have gotten me to this place in my life. All the little moments add up; each one has helped shape me and tells a tale. I am so thankful to have you all in my inner circle of love.

You cant really be strong until you see the funny side of things.

ANONYMOUS

Hi again. For those who read my first book, A Stolen Life , I would like to thank you for your huge amount of support. Some of you, howeverand you know who you arestill cant quite remember who I am. No, I am not a Duggar. I do not have eighteen siblings. Lets get one thing straight: my last name is DUGARD.

Many confuse me and my story with Elizabeth Smart. Just for the record, I am not Elizabeth Smart. Even though we both have blond hair, we have had vastly different lives and experiences. I am the one that was captive for EIGHTEEN YEARS! Not months. Not to say that what she went through wasnt as bad as what I did. Im not comparing us, but some have.

Believe it or not, I have also been mistaken for one of the girls held captive by Ariel Castro in Cleveland. Apart from being held by a deranged man for a number of years, Im not sure how I get confused with these brave ladies: Amanda Berry, Gina DeJesus, and Michelle Knight.

When I was first recovered, it was hard to put into words what I and my daughters had been through. I wasnt really the talkative type back then. Up until that point, Phillip had done most of the talking throughout the eighteen years of captivity, and it was mostly in the form of lectures and his idea of daily sermons. I mostly talked with the girls and thats it. So to have so many people to talk to all of a sudden was very overwhelming. I gave these men and women the bare essentials of what happened. It wasnt until I met Rebecca Bailey that I really wanted to open up.

I remember we were sitting in the backyard of the rental she and her team had found for us to stay in. Just the two of us. It was the first day we met. I told her right off I wasnt comfortable talking about what happened. The backyard we were in was all fenced in, but we could hear a neighbor working in the yard next door. After making my proclamation about not talking, she said that was fine. We just sat for second or two and all of a sudden, words started pouring out of my mouth. Maybe it was her willingness to just sit there with me. Or the fact I felt no judgment from her at all, but my whole life story just came tumbling out of me. Rebecca was actually trying to get me to stop at one point because she realized the noise from the neighbor had stopped and that there was an unmistakable hush from the other side and we knew someones ears were burning. We both laughed at that point and decided it was time for a break. I had told her a lot, though. It went a little like this...

It all started on a bright and sunny day in South Lake Tahoe. I was eleven years old. It was an ordinary day just like countless others I had had in my short eleven years of life. Then everything changed for me and my family. I was walking up to the school bus stop when a car came up behind me and stopped at an angle in front of me. Cutting off any chance of an exit. I wasnt scared at first, though. I had no reason to be. Nothing could prepare me for what was to happen next.

The man in the drivers seat opened his window and started to ask me for directions. Before I could answer, he shoved his door open and stunned me with a stun gun. (I didnt know what it was at the time, just that it made me lose control of my arms and legs.) I fell back into some bushes. Stunned, I tried to scoot backward, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide from the terrible man coming for me. Dragging me to his car. I try to hold on to whatever I can to no avail. (Years later, during my recovery process I would remember that the last thing I touched was a pinecone on the ground. It would become my symbol of new beginnings and the logo of my foundation.) The man throws me in the backseat where another person is waiting for me and covers me with a heavy blanket. (Later I learned this was Nancy Garrido, Phillip Garridos wife.) This person held me down. I felt like I couldnt breathe. I know I passed out at some point.