In San Francisco, my boss’s younger sister met us at the airport, and we happily ate dinner at her house. Before going to bed, the sister told me, “My mom stays with me. My sister used my mom so that she could get you to come here to be her domestic helper. Tomorrow, I will arrange your flight to Culver City.”

I was so shocked that I couldn’t say a thing. My head was spinning from the confusion.

I arrived in Los Angeles, and my boss took me to her condo in a gated community. She was a very prominent, influential Filipina woman, and her American husband was the vice president of legal affairs of Sony Pictures in Los Angeles. Before we went inside, she asked for my passport. She said she was going to extend my visa and petition for my family to come to America to be with me. Again, my happiness overwhelmed me, and I believed her.

Within a week, I had a “daily work schedule,” taped to the wall in the kitchen. It ran from 5 a.m. to 10:30 p.m., which was incorrect, since I also had to bring the dogs outside in the middle of the night. I had to take care of the dogs in addition to cooking, cleaning, washing, vacuuming, ironing, dusting, hemming clothes, and maintaining the plants. Every month, I cooked a large pot of a special Filipino dish of ground beef, rice, tomato, carrots, and broccoli for the dogs, but was fed leftover food that had been in the refrigerator for days. I had to brush the dogs’ teeth, clean their ears, and give them vitamins each day, but I had to sleep on a dog bed in the living room, even though the house was large, with a guest room and music room. I kept my belongings in the laundry room.

I felt that my boss disliked everything I did, no matter how hard I tried. She told me I was ignorant and brainless, and, as I later alleged in civil court, she hit me and pulled my hair, and left me with bruises and cuts.

I was scared of her, but also ashamed that this was happening to me, an elderly woman who deserved respect. I wanted to escape, but had no idea where to turn. And all kinds of fears kept me paralyzed. My visa expired, and after that, I was afraid of being arrested. My boss also told me I was responsible for paying back my airfare and that of her mother, since I couldn’t have come to America without her. She also deducted my everyday items from my salary, like shampoo and lotion. As I claimed in my lawsuit, I was paid a total of about $300 for my entire time with the family. Even if I made it back to the Philippines, I didn’t know how I could pay back my loans there.

I tried to tell people about my situation. I wrote notes to my boss’s husband. He seemed concerned about the physical abuse. But when the wife found out we were speaking about it, things only seemed to get worse. When the boss’s mother and brother came to visit, I told them too, but they gave me a prayer book and told me to pray. I think they were afraid of her too. I called a friend in Chicago, but she herself was undocumented and afraid to get involved.