Murder on Dalton Road: Part 1
Murder on Dalton
In 2013, I made the difficult decision, after a year of attempting mediation, to separate from my children’s mother. A week before we ended our stay together I was headed out from Owings Mills’ area of Baltimore County to my boxing gym in Loch Raven.
I drove slowly eastward on Reisterstown Rd contemplating the next phase of my life, and considering the reality of what co-parenting with someone who could not see eye to eye with me, no matter the subject.
Approximately a block north the exit to 695, directly parallel to the 7-11, I noticed a disabled vehicle. As I now attempt to recall the make and model, it escapes me, but it was one most frequently driven by folks further along in their years, i.e. an older Cadillac or something similar.
I automatically assumed it was an elderly person or persons and decided to see if I could be of some use to someone at a time in my life where I felt I was failing everywhere else.
As I approached the vehicle, I was very surprised to see an attractive, young lady around my age exit the car to greet me.
After some friendly banter, she explained a flat tire was the cause of her current distress. After examining it, I realized it would take more than a can of fix-a-flat to repair, temporarily or otherwise. The tire was completely removed from the rim of the car.
She proceeded to call the police and a tow truck.
Being the ‘Good Samaritan’ that I was, I waited with her until the police came and gave her the go ahead to leave. I offered her a partial ride to wherever she was going, to which she both seemed suspicious and appreciative all at once.
She told me she was headed to Dalton Ave, to which I responded “Oh, I’m headed right around the corner from there!”
Of course I was…, was the thought I could see formulating in her brow. I immediately attempted to quell her rightful misgivings by telling her my gym was on Glen Keith Blvd at a rec center, which was at most 3 minutes from her destination.
She immediately relaxed and said her son participated in some activity there and accepted my offer to chauffeur her.
As we drove down 695, we exchanged backstories, with mine unexpectedly being the simpler of the two. Imagine that…
She countered my baggage with her recent history, which was worthy of a prime time movie slot on lifetime.
Her name was Victoria Glover. She told me she was very recently divorced, although she had been separated for a year or so. Her ex-husband was extremely abusive and had beaten her on numerous occasions.
She finally had enough of it and made good on her promises to leave. She told me she contacted a group called House of Ruth and they made her transition from abused wife to single mother (to about 4 kids) a lot easier.
I asked her if she still spoke to him at all now, especially since she had children with him.
She must have noted my concern because she answered promptly, “Not at all!”
She further explained that he had threatened her life so she had a restraining order against him and had not spoken to him in quite some time.
At this point, out of concern for her safety, I shifted the conversation to self-defense. I grilled her about whether she had a gun, knew how to use one, and would she apply for a permit to carry?
The answers were no, no, and no.
I shook my head on the inside. I tried to assure her that guns weren’t as scary as some people are brought up believing they are, she had children to live for and keep safe, and it would be in her best interest to carry one, even if only as a safety precaution. Besides, she has children around that need her to be safe.
