(originally posted June, 2006)
Today I won a victory in a battle that has changed every single, solitary aspect of my life. Just over a year ago, a chain of events took place that set in motion the most humiliating and demoralizing experience of my life.
My daughter has been something of a difficult child since she was young. She was never thrilled about my divorcing her father, and once she hit the “tween” years, things just took a turn for the worse. On June 4, 2005, I was notified via a call from the principal of the school she was attending at the time that she’d arrived at school two hours late for the fourth time in a 10-day period. That fourth occurrence was amplified by the fact that she’d been seen on school property, tried to run away, and had to be physically restrained by the officer that patrols the school. Obviously, I was pissed beyond all pisstivity at this child’s temerity and unmitigated gall. (She lied to the principal and said that I was at home waiting to take her to a doctor’s appointment.)
That night, after I got home from work and running some errands, I decided that l’il Miss was about to catch one. (Let it be known from the gate that I was raised at the hands of my grandparents, who ruled with an IRON fist, and some of that rubbed off on me. I’m not apologizing for it either, because until this mess got started, I’d never really been in any trouble, not a day in my life.)
I marched L’il Miss into the living room, and in front of the other folks I live with, proceeded to lay her out verbally, and then I dusted that ass off, but good, with a leather belt. Understand that I’m not a fan of physical discipline, but after an entire year of bad grades, a totally apathetic attitude toward schoolwork and a general disrespect for the rules of the house and all the adults within, it was time for this CHILD to see who’s boss. I would also like to add that in said year, her chores were increased, she was given extra schoolwork, her amenities (stereo/video games etc.) were removed from her room, and she lost her social privileges – which essentially had the whole house on punishment.
After said corporal punishment was completed, everybody went to bed as usual. The next morning was the same – she had her lunch money for the week, so I didn’t see her prior to her departure. I was shocked to find out TWO WEEKS later that the local police had opened an investigation into child abuse allegations (there were marks on her arms because she was “blocking” and upon being asked at school she told the authorities that “my mother beat me with a belt.”) Now, I’m trippin at this point because school is out, l’il Mama’s been shipped off to her father for AT LEAST the summer and NOW the cops are digging in my ass.
I met with one of the detectives (who termed this l’il question and answer session as an “interview” during which I provided a “voluntary statement”). It wasn’t pretty. The detective was somewhat hostile towards me. She talked about how she had teenagers of her own and how it wasn’t going to get any better by “violently abusing” my child. I told her that she could raise her children as she saw fit and I’d raise mine as I saw fit. I also told her that if my daughter had been committing crimes against person or property during these little mini-vacations that *I* would have been held responsible. It wasn’t pretty, and at the end of the interview I was informed that she was going to refer my case to the State’s Attorney for prosecution. I was STUNNED.
Fast forward into July. The day after my birthday I received a phone call that there was a WARRANT pending for my arrest and that I had until a specific date to turn myself in or I would be picked up. I think I threw up after I got off the phone.
Me and the fam began to circle our wagons. We coordinated the day that I’d turn myself in. Not having ever had any trouble with the police I didn’t KNOW that Friday is REALLY not a good day to do it, even if you go early in the morning. I was arrested in Hyattsville at 9:00 am and this is where the descent into Hell truly began. I was kept in front of the booking officer, handcuffed and chained to a bench for two hours and kept in a holding cell until 3:00 pm with some folks that made my issues look fairly tame.
When my mug shots and fingerprints were taken, the CO’s at District I asked me “Was this your kid you did this to?” and I said yes, and explained why. All they could do was shake their heads because they agreed they would have done the same thing.
Back to the holding cell it was, while I waited to appear before the Commissioner. I was not taken to see the Commissioner until 8:30 pm Friday night. This man talked to me like I was shit on the bottom of his shoe. He pronounced me a flight risk, and proceeded to set my bond. I was distraught because I was told that nobody is allowed to post bond after 8:00 pm, and I was unceremoniously delivered with the other women that had been in holding who’d seen the commissioner to the Prince George’s County Correctional Facility. I cried the entire way there, especially upon being told that the charges for which I was being detained carried a maximum penalty of 15 years in prison.
Again the intake process begins. Sit here, go to this counter, sit there. Wait… wait… wait. Each time I came into contact with a CO, they’d ask me a little about my situation. One of the officers said that she felt sorry for me because there is REAL crime happening in this County and the state is trying to stick ME in jail for doing my JOB as a PARENT.
At this point I was able to make some phone calls, and I spoke with my folks as much as I could, anything to keep my sanity. They were just as upset as I was.
More and more time went by as I inched through the process. I was photographed again and given a name tag. Then they took my clothes and issued me the dread orange tracksuit. I was given a Rubbermaid crate for personal belongings and escorted with several other women onto the intake block. We got there at 6:00 am SATURDAY morning, but oops, too bad for us – we’d already missed breakfast.
I had to clean the crate I was given with a paper towel and a spritz of cleaner provided by the prison matron in charge that morning. I climbed into the top bunk and cried myself to sleep around 7:00 in the morning.
Those of us on the intake block were segregated from the rest of the general population and thankfully the people I was confined with seemed to be fairly decent. One woman was there on a weekend lockup for violating probation, one was on a bad check charge, one got arrested during a raid of her home because her husband was dealing drugs out of their home. She was pregnant with two other young children and I really felt sorry for her.
The minutes ticked by like HOURS.
Lunch was served around 11:00 am and I don’t think I ate much of anything. I’d been trying to call home but I couldn’t get anybody, so I could only hope that meant that the folks were working on busting me out. The “new fish” got some yard time. We huddled in a corner together mostly just sitting and talking. Some of the other girls came out to talk with us and I just wanted to be AWAY from that place.
More tears…
Finally – a ray of hope: The CO’s buzzed into my cell around 3:30 to tell me that I’d made bail. I gathered up what little stuff I had and was escorted into another waiting area. I felt like Debra Winger at the end of “Officer and A Gentleman” because the other girls were practically cheering for me. I was getting more and more antsy because all I could do was sit in this room while the others were having dinner (by now it’s 5:00 pm) and FINALLY someone came to walk me out.
The exit process was sort of the intake gig in reverse. I was never so glad to see my own clothes, even my UNDERWEAR again. To this day I can tell you what I was wearing when I turned myself in, a pair of jeans and my black Happy Bunny t-shirt. Isn’t it funny how the mind works??
The last guy I had to talk to (in Property) was telling me where to go and what not, and after walking what seemed like a maze, taunting me, I found the door to freedom. I could see people waiting in line to come in and visit, and I saw some of the CO’s that had been in intake the night before. They smiled and waved goodbye to me, but there was a lump in my throat because I didn’t see anyone waiting for me. I had to squelch the urge to run screaming out of the building. My heart was racing because when I went outside, there still wasn’t anyone there – and then I saw him. My sweetie, in his familiar black truck, pulled out of a parking space way down on the end. Turns out he’d been there all day because he didn’t want me to come out of there and have to wait for someone to come and get me. He got out and hugged me, said “Let’s leave this place” and he took me first to pick up some food, and then home.
The next steps in the process included dealing with my ex-husband in terms of getting L’il Mama situated for school up there in PA, and then of course finding out that he’d sued ME for child support after essentially having not paid for YEARS while *I* was the custodial parent.
Fine. *sigh* I am not one to shirk my responsibilities.
Next was voluntarily entering the parenting classes and securing legal counsel. A colleague of my former employer took my case, and for that I am ETERNALLY grateful. There were a couple of preliminary hearings and my case was set for trial this past January. They offered me a plea deal but I nixed the offer because there was no guarantee that I wouldn’t end up doing time, and because of another related matter which is still pending before the Department of Social Services. The prosecutor was trying to nail me to the wall and the judge assigned to the case practically spit on me when I appeared in court. I found out at Thanksgiving that I was basically BARRED from having any contact with my own child. I missed her 13th birthday. That hurt… a lot.
My original trial date was continued to the end of May because my lawyer was diagnosed with stomach cancer. I appeared on May 30 only to discover that my ex basically handed the prosecution a continuance because he told the Court he wasn’t coming because of a school trip for L’il Mama. There were some turns in my favor though, my case was assigned to a different judge and a different prosecutor. The date was rescheduled for today and the prosecution was admonished that no further continuances would be granted for lack of appearance on the part of my daughter.
This morning, I went to Court ready to sit and tell this whole story in front of a jury, but the ex did not appear and over objection of the prosecution, my case was dismissed. However, I have been changed permanently by this whole mess. I feel like even if I wanted to bring my daughter home, I would subject to extreme scrutiny by the state, and have therefore chosen to allow her to remain in the care of her father and stepmother. It’s a better environment for her all the way around; the school system, extended family (both her father’s and mine), and she’ll have the constant supervision that a teenager needs.
Don’t get me wrong: I understand why these laws are in place. Someone needs to protect the children whose parents come home and unscrew broom handles to beat them to within an inch of their lives on general principle. I, however, am NOT one of those parents. I merely tried to stop this kid from doing something to get herself into REAL trouble, and if I had to dust her off again, you damn right I would. Nothing that I gave birth to and that lives under my roof is going to run over me without a FIGHT.
Even though the war is not over, this battle is won, and I feel as if the weight of 40,000 years has been lifted.
For the special one that sat in the parking lot of the Prince George’s County Correctional Facility for HOURS in the heat waiting for my release; the three other members of my chosen family that helped facilitate said release; the host of friends and family that have prayed with me and for me through this horrendous ordeal, I appreciate you and thank you.
We now rejoin my regularly scheduled life…already in progress.
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