As someone with a high profile career, Rick Derrick has smiled his way through much of his life. People who knew the public relations executive and broadcaster as a child would probably have described him as a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, even way back when, Derrick says.
But there’s more to Derrick than the face he’s showed to the public for so long, a side that he’s finally trying to turn toward the spotlight and bring out of darkness. When he was a teenager, the happy face slipped under bouts of depression. And as a young adult, Derrick says he had a short temper. He attributes these behaviors to lingering effects of childhood physical and sexual abuse he suffered, then tried to ignore and conceal most of his life. Only lately, at age 54, is Derrick coming to terms with what it means to be a survivor of childhood abuse.
Derrick, a former Montgomery TV news anchor and public relations director for Baptist Health Center, currently serves as director of juvenile programs for Just Care, Inc. He continues to anchor One Mission, an audio magazine distributed to Alabama pastors and churches for the Alabama State Board of Missions with WSFA TV news anchor Kim Hendrix. He has written and published his autobiography, “Trapped in Darkness … Saved by Grace,” about his recovery from child abuse.
Although broadcasting brought Derrick to Alabama 18 years ago, he was born and raised in the resort community of Minocqua, Wis.
Derrick’s father was a nightclub and tavern owner, and his mother was an accomplished musician who played piano and organ at the clubs. The youngest of six children, Derrick says he was about eight years old when he became aware of just how poor was the quality of his home conditions. The family lived above the tavern. His father beat his mother regularly, and his mother was an alcoholic.
Derrick’s father died of a brain hemorrhage when Derrick was 10, and his mother found solace with another man, who sexually and physically abused her son. Sometimes his mother watched, too drunk to come to his aid.
Eventually Derrick’s older brothers and sisters alerted authorities to their plight, and the children were removed from the home and placed in foster care. Derrick lived in three different foster homes over the next few years, including one for six years. It was, he says, a good and loving home, but as a senior in high school he went to court to become an “emancipated minor,” moving into an apartment of his own and working three part-time jobs.
On the surface, life seemed to have assumed normalcy, especially to onlookers. “I had a facade of laughter and humor to protect me,” Derrick explains. But alone, he was often morose, even suicidal. He tried taking an overdose of medication but woke up sick. Another day he put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.
“It was a brand new gun,” Derrick explains. “There was no reason it should have misfired.” For the time being, he put the gun away.
A few hours before he was to graduate from high school he learned he lacked half a credit and would not be able to participate in the ceremonies. Discouraged, he went back to his apartment and picked up the gun again, only to be interrupted by his sister’s knock at the door. She’d come from out of state to see him graduate.
“It’s the kind of thing you look back on and realize God was there,” Derrick acknowledges. Deep in his soul, he accepted that he was meant to live.
Although Derrick recognized the source of his continuing anxiety and depression, he never spoke of the abuse to anyone. He went on to college, married and had two children, Steve and Sean. Derrick then embarked on a broadcasting career, moving around the country as he chased the next job offer into a bigger market.
In time radio brought him to Montgomery, where he worked as a news and weather anchor on two local television stations and was program director of WLWI radio. He worked under the air name of Jack Donovan, often referred to as “Smilin’ Jack.”
When he began working at Montgomery’s Baptist Medical Center, Derrick found a new role in public relations. He also found a new boss who helped him rediscover church and find Christ.
Although he hadn’t been to a worship service in 20 years, Derrick started attending First Baptist, Montgomery. A talk with the pastor culminated in a change of heart. Although Derrick had believed in Jesus from childhood, he realized, “I hadn’t turned my heart over to Him.”
After a few years Derrick went back to broadcasting, only to find himself back at Baptist Health Center several years later as director of public relations. He left the position a few years ago to work with Just Care.
“When you put Jesus Christ in your life and let Him take your burdens from you, you can find the mountaintops of joy,” Derrick said.
He learned to stop blaming himself for what happened. As he turned the dark side of his life toward the light, he also found himself turning the other cheek and finding forgiveness for his abuser and his mother, whom he had “absolutely hated for 35 years because she watched what happened to me.” His mother died when he was 20.
When his past did rise up to haunt him, God faithfully sent comfort. Once it came from his nephew, then age 4, who roused him from discouragement with, “I love you, Uncle ‘Ick, and so does Jesus.”
Then last May a friend asked him to recommend someone who could speak about child abuse on behalf of Prevent Child Abuse Alabama. His friend sought a child abuse survivor. Derrick surprised them both by volunteering his own services.
Speaking that day on the capitol steps opened a floodgate that Derrick no longer tries to stem. Although once upon a time he never spoke about that dark period of his life, he now welcomes the opportunity to speak about it. His wife, Teri, never heard of it until four years ago, and Derrick only recently learned his brother was also abused. Being open about his suffering has empowered Derrick and encouraged others.
Back at the hospital a couple of days after that first speech on the steps of the capitol, a woman stopped to thank him for his words. “I want to give you a hug,” she said as she confessed that she, too, was a child abuse survivor.
Derrick realized then that his experience should be shared. Having already begun to record his history, he turned it into a book as a resource for those who seek encouragement.
Revealing that side of his life to the public has given him personal release, he says.
And he knows that what he suffered is not unique. On any given Sunday in a typical church, four out of 10 people — more than a fourth of the congregation — have been victims of child abuse, according to Derrick.
Although adults may consider the abuse a thing of the past, Derrick recommends they choose someone to confide in.
“Talk about it. The more you keep it bottled up inside, the worse it gets. As much as I had accomplished, this stuff was still eating at me.” Although he never sought a counselor’s services, Derrick recommends professional help.
For children or teens who are current victims of abuse, Derrick has these words of advice: “Tell somebody, the sooner the better. If I could say one thing to kids: It’s not your fault.”
You can still catch Rick Derrick with a smile on his face. But these days it seems to come less from habit and more from his heart.
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