The Joseph Palczynski Story

On their first date, in the summer of 1998, Joby brought Tracy home to meet his mother. His new girlfriend was 20 years old but so thin that she looked younger. Her long arms and legs made her seem taller than her 5-foot-5 frame; her brown hair fell in a cascade of gold-tinged curls. Self-conscious, nervous, Tracy could see Joby came from a prosperous household.

Pat Long's house in Chase had a swimming pool in the back yard and woods that ran down to the river. Proud of her housecleaning business, Long kept her own home immaculate. She decorated in pastel colors, collected pretty soaps and sweet-smelling candles and displayed photographs of her four grown children. Petite and blonde, "Miss Pat" was energetic and openly affectionate, a woman who believed in lots of hugs.

Tracy was starved for attention. Pregnant at 15, she had dropped out of school to care for her baby and eventually slipped into drugs. She decided her son would be better off living with his paternal grandmother while she tried to get clean.

When Joby came into her life, she was still fighting her addiction to heroin. Needing cash, she went into the Super Fresh in Middle River one day in July. As she asked the cashier where she could get a refund for medicine she was returning, she noticed a customer watching her. Later, when she waited outside for a cab to take her to Dundalk to buy drugs, the man cruised up in his sports car. He teased her for interrupting him at the register. They chatted; he got her phone number.

Then he began calling every day.

Joby was tan, good-looking, had a Mazda RX7 sports car, Jet Skis and a good job as an electrician's helper. He was so clean-cut he didn't even smoke cigarettes. He took her on picnics, sang ballads to her at karaoke bars and accompanied her to Narcotics Anonymous meetings. He drove her wherever she needed to go; with no money to buy a car, Tracy had never gotten her driver's license.

She knew he'd been in jail, but she certainly didn't hold it against him - not with the struggles she'd had.

And Joby seemed as determined as she was to get her life on track. He had never loved anyone as much, he told her. Soon, they were sharing an apartment. With his encouragement, Tracy didn't miss a day of work at Dante's Frozen Pizza for a whole year.

She had no doubt she was stepping up in the world.

When things were good, they were very good: Tracy gained weight, saved money from her job to shower her family with Christmas gifts. Before long, she'd been drug-free for six months, then a year. Joby took her on outings with her 5-year-old son, praised her spaghetti sauce, played bingo with her at North Point Flea Market. He gave her a ring and bought her a necklace with "No. 1 Mom" on it for their first Christmas.

Months later, in a fit of anger, he would rip the necklace from her neck. Tracy had discovered that along with Joby's kindness came jealousy and rage.

Sometimes without warning, he would put down her family, taunt her about her past. She learned never, ever, to tell him of even the slightest compliment from a man. He would accuse her of egging men on - even a friendly stranger who said she reminded him of his daughter. When she walked through the mall with Joby, it was easier to stare at the ground than to hear him complain that she was looking at other men.

As she continued to turn her life around, gaining confidence and starting a new job as a cashier at a discount store, Joby grew more insecure. If she fixed her hair a new way or wore a nice outfit to work, he was suspicious: Who are you trying to impress?

Sometimes he would spit on her, douse her with soda. A lie earned her a black eye and a split lip. And once, soon after they'd met, when she had slipped back into drugs, he knocked her unconscious. A few times, he threatened that if she left him he would kill her family and leave her alive to suffer.

Early on, a counselor told her the relationship didn't sound healthy, that she should get out of it. And Tracy did leave - five, maybe six times. But Joby always found her, promised to reform and pleaded with her to come back. She did: She had no better place to go, and Joby was different from anyone she'd ever met.

"He built my self-esteem up a lot and he made me feel good about myself and he cleaned and cooked and he was just like the kind of guy you could spend the rest of your life with," she says. "If only he didn't have those moods."

Part of the problem, she learned, was Joby's concern about his appearance. Accustomed to telling people he was younger than he was - most of his previous girlfriends were in high school when he dated them - Joby's lies were becoming less believeable as he aged. He had told Tracy he was 25 a few months before he turned 30. He talked about getting cosmetic surgery for the wrinkles under his eyes. And last year he had refused to attend his own birthday party when, even with the help of hair plugs, he couldn't cover his bald spot.

Tracy had seen the photographs Joby kept of previous girlfriends, knew many of them by name. She also learned she wasn't the only woman he had picked up at the supermarket. When one such woman called, saying he'd given her his number, Tracy left. Joby cried, begged her to return, swore he hadn't done anything wrong. After that, though, she checked receipts in his pockets, questioned him if he went to the supermarket at odd hours.

One night last February, during an argument, Joby told her he had cheated on her. She stormed out of their apartment, after declaring that she, too, had cheated on him. Later she called from a bar to taunt him with another story she'd made up: She'd met this guy, someone who also loved kids, who had a good job and three cars and was much younger than Joby.

When she finally returned home that night, she found her shirts, dresses, underwear slashed to bits all over the apartment. Joby had even cut up her tennis shoes.

She decided to leave - for good.

Tracy had just been promoted to assistant manager at work. She had also been drug-free for a year and a half - an achievement Joby was always taking credit for. Finally, she could afford to live on her own. Just as Joby feared, she had built up her confidence - and outgrown their abusive relationship.

For the next three weeks Tracy saved her paychecks and combed rental notices until she found an apartment she could afford. When she realized the place would not be ready for a week, she confided to her manager at work, Gloria Shenk, that she worried Joby would flip if he discovered she was leaving.

Shenk was also concerned. She had remained in a bad relationship too long, she told Tracy, and didn't want her to make the same mistake. Why don't you stay with me this week? the 50-year-old woman advised. Tracy walked home to pack while Joby was at work. That, she recalls, was when the nightmare began.

She was in the apartment only a short while when the phone rang: It was the store, calling to alert her that Joby was looking for her. She could hear his voice in the background. He was right around the corner, a minute away.

Grabbing two bags, leaving the door open, she hid underneath the front steps. A split second later, as she crouched there, shaking, he came toward the steps screaming her name: Tracy, Tracy!

Where are you going? he demanded as he found her cowering.

Got my own place.

Where at?

Tracy didn't want to tell him, and quickly changed her story. She was staying with Gloria, she said.

Get in the car, he ordered. We'll go ask Gloria if it's true. She rode in the back, her hand on the door handle, prepared to jump out when the car slowed. Joby stopped in front of his mother's house in suburban Chase.

Sometimes when there was trouble, Joby asked his mother to "referee." Over the past few months she had suggested that Joby and Tracy let a therapist help them work through their problems. This time, however, she wasn't there to assist. Joby dragged Tracy inside by her long hair.

Locking the doors, he hit her in the face, kicked her in the ribs, and beat her, screaming: You're not going nowhere! He told her to call work and say she wouldn't be back that day.

On the other end of the phone, Gloria Shenk wasn't fooled: Are you OK?

No.

Want me to call the police?

Yes.

When the officers arrived, Tracy ran outside.

He's going to kill me!

She was in the back of a police car giving her statement when Joby's mother drove up. Miss Pat asked to speak to Tracy privately. Joby was already on probation for beating an earlier girlfriend. New assault charges would violate the terms of Joby's probation, possibly sending him back to jail.

Why don't you just forget him? Long pleaded. I'll put you ... on the bus and you can go to Florida and relive your life. ... Just don't charge him because he's got 10 years over his head.

Tracy refused, and Joby was arrested. But a day later, he was out on $7,500 bail, thanks to his mother. Pat Long came to see Tracy again.

During the past two years, the women had developed a close and complicated relationship. Miss Pat was the sweetest woman Tracy had ever met, routinely dropping by their apartment with food and supplies. When Tracy had turned 21, Miss Pat threw her a party. They shared the kinship of women who love an abusive man; Pat often argued with Joby on Tracy's behalf - and Tracy looked up to her as a kind of role model.

Now, Miss Pat was desperate. Joseph isn't doing real well, she said.

It had taken courage for Tracy to come this far - and now she would only go forward. She refused again to change her story.

I have no sympathy for him at all, she told Miss Pat.