My First Full Day in Albuquerque, New Mexico: Excitement, Faith, and Warning Signs (March 6, 2013)

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The Trip That Changed Everything: Jennifer and Onyx Fly to Albuquerque, New Mexico (June 3, 2013)

Copyrighted by by Jennifer Norris

When I boarded a plane for Albuquerque, New Mexico, on March 5, 2013, I thought I was heading into an exciting new chapter of my advocacy work.

I had never been to New Mexico before. Someone else had paid for my airline ticket, I had been invited into their home, and I believed I was traveling there for all the right reasons. At the time, it felt generous. It felt exciting. It felt like an opportunity to support something meaningful.

Looking back, I can also see just how much trust I had placed in someone I barely knew.

I had flown across the country on someone else’s dime. I didn’t have a rental car. I was staying in their home. I didn’t really know the people I was depending on.

And once I arrived, I began realizing that the situation might not be what I thought it was.

Now that I don’t have brain injuries and I am retracing my steps, I learned that this ticket was purchased for me on March 3, 2013, only two days before I flew out on to Albuquerque on March 5, 2013 to interview for a documentary about male survivors. Michael Matthews didn’t plan on having me in his documentary, this was a last minute decision and the lure.

March 6, 2013, was my first full day in Albuquerque, and initially, I was thrilled.

New Mexico was unlike anywhere I had ever been. The landscape, architecture, history, culture, mountains, desert colors, and brilliant Southwestern sky made an immediate impression on me.

We explored Albuquerque, visited the location connected to the documentary premiere that had brought me there in the first place, and checked out different areas around the city. There was an excitement to seeing everything in person.

Built in 1927 to show both motion pictures and stage productions, the KiMo Theater has an important place among the elaborate palatial dream-theaters of the 1920s. KiMo, in the language of the nearby Isleta Pueblo, means “king of its kind,” and the name is certainly well deserved. New Mexico: KiMo Theater

This was advocacy work that mattered deeply to me. I believed I was surrounded by people who cared about the same mission I did, and I was excited about what might come from being there.

We also visited the historic church I have written about separately. That visit would eventually become one of the most meaningful memories from the entire trip… because I prayed there not knowing I was in danger at that moment.

At the time, I couldn’t possibly have understood how significant that prayer would later feel to me.

The Feeling Began to Change

There is something very different about meeting someone through advocacy or online connections and actually staying inside their home. You see things you would never see otherwise. You see how people speak to those closest to them. You see how they behave when they are frustrated. You see what happens when alcohol enters the picture. And sometimes you begin seeing a completely different person.

In the heart of Downtown Albuquerque stands a majestic and historic theater unlike any other.
KiMo Theatre – City of Albuquerque (a Landmark on Route 66)

That happened to me in Albuquerque.

One of the first things that bothered me was the way my host treated his wife. I didn’t like what I was hearing or seeing. It made me uncomfortable, and it started changing the way I viewed him. Then there was his behavior when he drank. His personality seemed dark to me when alcohol was involved, and there were moments when his behavior genuinely unsettled me.

I remember beginning to feel nervous around him.

That was when the reality of my situation started sinking in. I was thousands of miles from home. I had no vehicle of my own. I was staying under his roof. I was dependent on people I didn’t actually know very well. And I was beginning to question whether I had made a serious mistake.

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When Your Instinct Starts Talking to You

One of the hardest lessons I have learned in life is that danger does not always announce itself.

Sometimes it arrives disguised as generosity. Sometimes it calls itself friendship. Sometimes it offers to buy the plane ticket. And sometimes the first indication that something isn’t right is simply that feeling deep inside you saying:

Pay attention.

That’s what started happening to me. I didn’t have proof of some grand scheme. I couldn’t see into anyone else’s mind. But I knew what I was observing, and I knew how it was making me feel.

My instincts were telling me something was wrong.

Then something happened that made those instincts much harder to ignore.

Spanish Pueblo Architecture : New Mexico Museum of Art

The Phone Call I Wasn’t Supposed to Hear

By the grace of God, I happened to overhear a telephone conversation one night.

I wasn’t trying to listen to anyone’s private conversation. I was just laying in my bed trying to fall asleep. But, I heard enough of it to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

From what I could hear, it sounded to me like he was talking with someone about taking somebody down. And as I listened, I became increasingly afraid that the person they were talking about might be me. I can’t tell you for sure that it was about me but regardless I didn’t want to be around anyone that would talk about another human being like that.

I know what I heard, what I observed during that trip, and what my instincts were screaming at me. Something felt wrong.

Now, all the circumstances surrounding my trip look different to me. Someone else purchased my ticket at the last minute. I had flown somewhere I had never been. I had no transportation of my own. I was staying inside someone else’s home. And I had placed myself in a position where people I barely knew had extraordinary access to me. That realization scared me.

Albuquerque Recognized Nationally and Internationally as a Top Travel Destination for 2026

Access Is Something I Understand Differently Now

There is a lesson in this story that took me years to fully appreciate:

Access is power.

When you allow someone into your personal life—or place yourself inside theirs—you are giving them access to information, conversations, vulnerabilities, habits, relationships, and circumstances that outsiders would never have.

Most good people don’t think about relationships that way because they aren’t looking for ways to exploit somebody. But experience taught me that not everyone thinks like that.

Someone who has spent time around you can later claim they witnessed things. Someone who has stayed with you—or allowed you to stay with them—can tell stories about private moments nobody else could verify. Someone can take ordinary disagreements and reshape them into something much darker.

That doesn’t mean we should live afraid of everyone. It means trust should be earned, not assumed. In March 2013, I hadn’t learned that lesson yet. I was still operating from the belief that because we cared about the same cause, we must share the same values. Those are not the same thing.

How The Mexican Culture Remembers Loved Ones

Advocacy Does Not Automatically Make Someone Safe

This may be one of the most important lessons I carried away from those years.

Working on behalf of vulnerable people does not automatically make someone a good person. Calling yourself an advocate does not automatically make you trustworthy. Talking publicly about abuse does not mean you are incapable of mistreating people privately. And presenting yourself as a victim does not mean every version of every story you tell is accurate.

Character is revealed in behavior.

How do you treat your spouse? How do you treat people who disagree with you? What happens when you’re drinking? How do you respond when someone establishes a boundary? How do you behave when you no longer control the situation?

Those questions eventually became far more important to me than titles, organizations, reputations, or public personas.

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God Was Already There

What stays with me most about that first full day in Albuquerque, however, isn’t the fear.

It’s the prayer.

Before I understood what might be happening around me, I walked into a historic New Mexico church and prayed.

I had no idea what was coming. I didn’t know that my excitement about this trip would begin turning into uneasiness. I didn’t know I would start questioning the character of someone I thought was genuine about helping male victims as much as I am. I didn’t know I would overhear a conversation that would frighten me. But God did.

That is why, looking back, that moment inside the church means so much more to me now than it did then.

What felt like a beautiful stop during my first adventure in New Mexico became something much deeper in my memory.

It became a reminder that sometimes protection begins before we even realize we need protecting.

Divinely Protected: The Lord’s Prayer I Prayed at San Felipe de Neri Parish in Albuquerque, New Mexico Before Everything Changed (March 6, 2013)

I Arrived Excited. I Left Wiser.

When I think about March 2013 trip to Albuquerque, I remember two versions of myself existing almost simultaneously.

There was the woman standing in Albuquerque for the first time, excited by the mountains, the culture, the history, the documentary, and the possibility of doing something meaningful. And there was another woman slowly emerging underneath her—the one beginning to realize:

I need to be careful here.

The Lord’s Prayer I Prayed at San Felipe de Neri Parish Before Everything Changed (March 6, 2013)

That woman would eventually learn a great deal about boundaries. About access. About manipulation. About listening to her instincts. About the difference between someone’s public persona and their private behavior. And most importantly, about trusting God when something deep inside her says that something isn’t right.

I traveled to Albuquerque believing someone else’s generosity had opened a door for me. In hindsight, I understand something much more important.

Not every open door is a safe door.

And sometimes the greatest gift isn’t being invited inside. It’s recognizing when it’s time to find your way back out.

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