At age 32, abused and battered, Patricia Wenskunas felt like she was a shell of a person, with no soul.

Sexually abused as a young girl, physically abused by her partner and grappling with a potentially deadly eating disorder, Wenskunas was already a broken woman when she moved to Irvine from Illinois in 1994 with her son Nathaniel, then 12.Wenskunas decided to get help for her eating disorder and to improve her overall health. So, she approached her neighborhood gym, where staff recommended a personal trainer. The trainer seemed eager to help, and she trusted him.

But, in hindsight, Wenskunas believes that the man, Jeffrey Kelavos, knew the instant he shook her hand that she was an easy target – his prey.

On April 4, 2002, Kelavos told Wenskunas he would drop by her Irvine condo to help sell her treadmill because she shouldn’t exercise without him around. Not at home. Nowhere else but at the gym.

That morning, when he arrived, she said, he offered her a pill saying it would help her lose 8 pounds. Wenskunas thought there was “something off” about that statement. But she was intrigued and excited that the pill could help her lose weight. He mixed it for her in a glass of water. She became suspicious when she saw a blue foam gather at the edge of the glass, but he urged her to drink it. She did.

Wenskunas felt shaky at first and then lost consciousness. She recalled waking up on the bed in her son’s room, undressed, on her stomach with Kelavos on top of her. When she tried to run away, her head still spinning, she said, he tried to suffocate her with Saran Wrap and threatened to kill her son, who was not home at the time. That threat prompted Wenskunas to leap from a 12-foot balcony, run out the door and cry for help.

“All I could think was I needed to find my son and keep him safe,” she said.

Legally, it was a challenging case because investigators found no evidence of drugs in her body other than allergy medication and no evidence of sexual assault. But, prosecutors did have as crucial evidence two messages Kelavos had left on Wenskunas’ answering machine – sounding distraught and tearfully apologizing to her for what he had done.

Kelavos was eventually found guilty of assault with a deadly weapon and making criminal threats. He served 120 days in jail. A judge tossed out attempted-murder charges.

Wenskunas hasn’t seen him since. But now, 12 years later, she still walks around with unanswered questions – questions she’d like to ask him some day: Why did he want to kill her and her son? And, what did he do to her sexually?

• • •

A devout Catholic, Wenskunas, now 45, credits her faith and her son for helping her turn her life around after the attack.

“I remember this one day when I was sitting in the living room of my condo, staring at the white walls,” she said. “I heard my son in the other room (ask) his friend if he’ll ever get his mom back again to take care of him.”

Those words from a 12-year-old were enough to spur Wenskunas into action. She threw herself back into her event-planning and catering business. She got the counseling and support she desperately needed.

But she felt the need to do something else. In 2003, even as she was healing from her traumatic experience, Wenskunas founded Crime Survivors Inc., an organization that offers support services for victims of crimes – support she wished she’d had as a child and later as an adult to help deal with her physical and emotional wounds.

“I knew nothing about nonprofits then,” she said. “But it was definitely a higher power that was helping and guiding me. Where there is faith, there is hope.”

In 2011, Wenskunas also founded OC Crime Stoppers, a nonprofit tip line that works with all law enforcement agencies in the county to help them get leads from the public.

(Page 2 of 2)

Wenskunas said she got involved with helping others because she did not want them to suffer as she did. When she saw her attacker get just a 120-day jail sentence, Wenskunas said, she became embittered by the legal system.

“I didn’t want another person to live as a victim with guilt, shame, feeling dirty,” she said. “Helping thousands of people through Crime Survivors has helped me heal.”

She says it’s also helped her forgive her attacker.

• • •

Wenskunas admits forgiveness did not come easily for her. Immediately after the attack, there was hatred. She had thoughts about punching his face. She wished him ill.

But she soon realized that those feelings meant that her attacker was still important to her. He still controlled her life, her thoughts and her actions.

“I couldn’t have that,” she said. “The first step in forgiveness is to understand that you will never forget what happened to you. But you forgive so you can move on with your life. If I live my life angry, then he has control.”

It took Wenskunas close to six years to forgive Kelavos completely, she said. She not only had to forgive her assailant, but also herself and a flawed justice system.

“I developed the passion to put the community above myself,” she said. “I realized that we endure certain things so we make an impact. Forgiveness came gradually for me. It took several years for me to get to a place where I don’t feel anger, pain, fear and resentment in my heart anymore.”

Wenskunas used to avoid saying his name. She’d refer to him as “the monster” or “the evil man.” But, today, she has no problem saying his name. She says it and feels nothing.

“I was a shell of a person before, but today he’s a shell of a person to me,” she said. “To me, this is forgiveness.”

Wenskunas said she does not, however, attempt to force other survivors to forgive. “It’s an individual journey, and it may not be for everyone,” she said.

Wenskunas has been criticized for including the concept of forgiveness in public talks. She has been warned that her organization may lose funding if she doesn’t stop her forgiveness crusade.

“But, I have to talk about forgiveness because it is such a part of who I am,” she said. “I don’t expect everyone to understand that. But, once I forgave, I know that my life changed completely. I no longer remembered the pain and sadness I felt that day. I feel that my soul is pure and free.”

Contact the writer: 714-796-7909 or dbharath@ocregister.com