After his sister was violently murdered in 2011, Kell Ramos knew he wanted to do something to make sure no other woman suffered a similar fate.
After his sister was violently murdered in her Bordentown apartment on Nov. 7, 2011, Kell Ramos knew he wanted to do something to make sure no other woman suffered a similar fate.
Had his sister known the truth about the man she was involved with, things might have ended differently, Ramos says.
Misty Ramos told her family that something was off with her ex-boyfriend Noel Irizarry, but she kept seeing him because he wouldn’t leave her alone. She had caught him in several lies and broken promises, of a nice house and a new job. She even ran a background check on him, but he came up clean, family members said.
One daym Ramos stopped answering her cell phone and was late to pick up her 9-year-old daughter at day care. Her family members found her lifeless body on the floor of her apartment. It was then they learned about the biggest lie Irizarry had told. He had never admitted to having served time in prison for an episode of brutal violence in which he had slashed his ex-girlfriend’s throat in a non-fatal attack.
The family discovered the truth about his background and the 10 years he had spent in jail only after his arrest in Ramos’ death.
“If we had known that, she wouldn’t have been with him,” said Vicky Hammer, Ramos’ mother.
Irizarry pleaded guilty in February 2012 to killing Ramos and is currently serving a 30-year prison sentence.
In the six months after Misty’s death, Kell Ramos, her older brother, came up with the idea to start a domestic violence database for repeat, violent offenders, so that victims of violence or those who are uneasy about their partners can search to see if they are on the list.
Ramos said he saw Assemblyman Reed Gusciora (D-Trenton) shortly after his sister’s death and brought up the idea to create a database — much like Megan’s Law database for sex offenders — and Gusciora said he would sponsor the legislation. After several meetings and changes to the controversial bill, and after an initial introduction last year, the bill is ready to be reintroduced in the next legislative session, which begins Jan. 14, Gusciora said.
“As a municipal prosecutor, I see it a lot. There are times where I will have domestic violence offender and see his registry from the police and there is a whole list of prior offenses,” Gusciora said. “I see these instances where they are extremely violent.”
Gusciora said advance knowledge would enable potential victims to make better choices about whom they become involved with.
Ramos said he has some reservations about any further changes to the bill, because he wants to make sure it is not too broad — such as listing anyone who is found guilty of domestic violence, even if it is not a violent offense. Ramos said there should be some way to prevent innocent people accused of domestic violence from being placed on the list.
“A lot of times men and women make these things up when they have been scorned,” Ramos said. “And being on a registry can change your life.”
Ramos said he would prefer that the registry be limited to repeat, violent offenders who pose a serious threat to their victims.
Ramos, a local documentary filmmaker, has decided to document the effort to pass the legislation, but at the same time shine a light on the cycle of violence that permeates many families.
In the film, Ramos discusses his own history of domestic violence and conviction for simple assault, as well as the emotional abuse he and his mother, brother and sister endured growing up.
“Our home was a war zone,” Ramos said, describing life with his mom and stepfather.
“We watched my mother always fighting,” Ramos said.
“He wasn’t physically violent,” Hammer said. “We had a lot of anger issues. There was a lot of slamming doors and yelling. I couldn’t see leaving. I was under his spell, I guess.”
Ramos said he was charged with simple assault against his wife after the two of them got into an argument in 2003 that ended when they were pushing and shoving and eventually threw punches and he cut her lip.
Although his wife dropped the charges, Ramos was charged in state court with simple assault and let off with a fine.
When he got home, Ramos said he asked his wife why she called the cops. She asked him what he would tell their daughter to do if it were her in that situation.
“That was my epiphany,” Ramos said.
He went to therapy and started to think about the ways he was treating his wife badly.
Ramos said he didn’t always realize what he was doing was abusive because his wife didn’t always react. She had been severely abused as a child, he said, and that affected how she responded to abuse.
“What I was doing, it was easy compared to what she grew up in,” Ramos said.
After Misty Ramos’ death, Kell Ramos discovered his sister had fit herself into the same role that his mother had been in growing up.
“It was exactly the same,” he said. “She never had a good relationship in her life. “
Ramos has started a domestic violence group online to help victims and offenders of domestic violence and raise awareness of the issue.
He said he will continue to work toward the creation of a database, even if it faces opposition in the state Legislature. Ramos has begun a campaign going around to different municipalities in New Jersey, asking local leaders to adopt the creation of a database locally, as has been done in Clinton.
“If a few cities have it passed it might have a better chance in the state,” Ramos said. “It will happen eventually.”
For more information about the documentary and the legislation visit www.mistydawndocumentary.com
Contact Jenna Pizzi at jpizzi@njtimes.com or (609) 989-5717.
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