Medcalf: This Minnesota woman is on a mission to prevent domestic violence

The holidays often remind Lissa Weimelt of her daughter, Maria Fernanda Bliss Pew. But throughout the year, she is always present, too.

“We miss her dearly,” said Weimelt, a domestic violence advocate. “We honor her every day. There is not a minute that goes by that I don’t think of her.”

Four years ago, Maria was murdered by her husband, Joshua David Fury. The Maple Grove man pleaded guilty and was expected to receive a 38-year sentence before he died by suicide in jail. Weimelt had concerns about him the moment her daughter introduced him to her family.

“It took us absolutely, totally by surprise,” she said. “I mean, did we like him? No. Did we think he was a domestic abuser? No, we didn’t know that.”

The tragedy, however, fueled the creation of Maria’s Voice, a nonprofit organization that “creates educational programs and collaborative partnerships to prevent domestic abuse,” by Weimelt and her husband, Bill Pew.

“We realized that we did not really know anything about domestic violence,” Weimelt said. “We didn’t know the signs, we didn’t know what to look for. We didn’t have the terminology. We didn’t have any language that accurately described it. So we thought, ‘Wow, we can do something about this.’”

I called Weimelt because advocates from multiple domestic violence organizations have warned that women who are victims of abuse are vulnerable around the holidays, the most festive time of the year for many and the most dangerous moment for others. While the statistics about abuse around the holidays are difficult to pinpoint, the stressors that can create more danger for victims — elevated alcohol use, isolation from support networks as people travel to see their families and friends and the pressure to participate in gatherings that may also include a perpetrator — increase this time of year.

“There is also the fact that when people are confined in Minnesota in the winter, not everybody gets along harmoniously,” Weimelt said. “And we do not all have the tools to diffuse that situation. So people get under each other’s skin, and violence increases. And then there’s one real thing I’d like to point out is that the people that are in that situation don’t have people they can share that with.”

The holidays bring folks together. That’s a beautiful thing for so many. It’s an opportunity to see the people we’ve missed all year. The camaraderie, however, can also put victims in closer proximity to those who’ve harmed them. People who’ve encountered abuse often spend more time at home with those individuals, which can fuel volatile situations.

Yet, Weimelt said, it’s also an opportunity to be vigilant and recognize a victim’s vulnerability. If a person can recognize the signs and offer nonjudgmental support, they can help prevent domestic violence and provide a path for a victim to find safety.

“We’ve got this Hollywood version of who all of our families are,” she said. “So we don’t have a friend or a neighbor or someone at church or someone in our book club or someone that we can work with that we can say, ‘Hey, things are really difficult for me at home right now. I need some help.’ There is real shame for someone who was victimized [to reach] out. So all of those things, especially around the holiday, when we’re all supposed to be jolly, jolly, jolly, prevent people from getting any help because they’re ashamed that they’re not a perfect family.”

A friend of mine was the victim of domestic violence at an early age. The man abused both her and her child. To those around them, he was a standup, charismatic individual with a good reputation in their community. But he was a terror behind closed doors.

That experience changed her life. It affected the way she trusted, the way she bonded with others, the way she loved in relationships and the way she conducted herself around strangers. At her home, she told me, she had a weapon in every room. She kept a pistol underneath her bed. There were knives behind a bookshelf. And a rifle hidden in the kitchen. Just in case.

Like so many victims, she suffered in silence.

Weimelt said she did not know about her daughter’s circumstances, either. Maria was adopted by Weimelt and her husband from an orphanage in Mexico City. Her ambition helped her graduate from college with honors. She excelled in gymnastics and competitive cheerleading. But her mother did not understand her predicament until she was killed.

Those casual check-ins with friends and family members during the holidays, Weimelt said, can be revealing. And they also might save someone’s life.

Her mission today is to help others avoid the pain her family has carried for the last four years.

“It is a terrible loss in Bill’s and my world, but I really think the biggest loss was to Maria,” Weimelt said. “She was a person of great promise and an amazing young woman who had her whole life in front of her. And so I think the greatest loss was her own personally, and that really grieves me. She should have had that opportunity to fulfill her future and her wishes and her dreams that belonged to her. And I’m regretful that he took that away deliberately.”