Fifth-grader Jody Plauch and his classmates were sent a flyer for karate training in the fall of 1982 while they were enrolled in Mayfair Elementary School in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. Jody threw his in the trash, uninterested.
However, Mike, his younger brother, brought his copy home with him. In January 1983, their mother, June, enrolled all three of her boys—Mike, Jody, and their older brother Bubba—in lessons taught by a new teacher, Jeff Doucet.
Jody, who is now 53, tells people, “We all loved him.” Jeff practically became a member of the family.
Doucet joined in on family gaming nights and soon became a part of their life. However, he started preparing Jody for abuse behind closed doors, starting quietly during karate class stretches.
According to Jody, he would say, “Here, let me help you,” and then begin to touch her inner thighs. It’s close, but not my intimate areas. He was making it commonplace.
The abuse swiftly got worse.Doucet would take the other kids on snack runs and abuse Jody during their alone time.
Jody adds, “Go get a Coke and some M&Ms,” after he hands them money. He had ten or fifteen minutes to do as he pleased.
Jody claims he concealed the abuse in spite of the suffering. I reasoned that if I remained silent, he would ultimately cease. I didn’t want my folks to be angry.
However, everything changed in March 1984.
Under the guise of taking Jody to Disneyland, Doucet abducted him and transported him across the nation to California. They were found by the FBI in an Anaheim motel room. Agents barged in as Jody was watching TV.
He remembers, “Suddenly, there were guns in my face.” I was dragged out the room. I didn’t see Jeff after that.
Doucet was extradited to Baton Rouge a week later to stand trial for sexual assault and kidnapping. However, Gary, Jody’s father, was waiting at the airport with a concealed.38-caliber handgun before he could get to court.
He told his companion, “You’re going to hear it,” while using a pay phone. Gary then turned and shot Doucet once in the head as TV cameras rolled.
When police asked Gary why he did it, he said, “You would have done the same thing if he had done that to your family.”
Later, June, Jody’s mother, paid her husband a visit in jail. She told him, “You know you’re going to hell, right?” Yes, he said, but he didn’t give a damn.
A judge eventually accepted Gary’s plea of manslaughter when he was charged with second-degree murder. In addition to 300 hours of community service, which included painting and mowing lawns at a nearby Catholic school, he was placed on probation for five years.
According to Jody, my dad was fortunate.
Jody was upset for a while. He acknowledges that I ignored him for a few months. But they made up gradually.
I forgave him one day while we were making our way to the pool. I’m no longer angry with you. I can see why you did that. That must have meant a great deal to him.
Gary passed away in 2014 following a string of strokes. Jody claims he has come to terms with the shooting, even though the two never discussed it much after that.
He is now an advocate for victims of abuse and the author of the 2019 memoir Why, Gary, Why?, which describes his experiences. His advice to others is that your history does not define you and that healing is possible.
He exhorts people who believe a youngster is being abused to take action and show compassion. Abusers do more than only harm children; they also utilize their affection and trust to coerce them into quiet. I did not wish for Jeff’s death. All I wanted was for him to stop.
To connect with a qualified crisis counselor, text STRENGTH to the Crisis Text Line at 741-741 if you or someone you know has experienced abuse.
