Packing up tonight. I've been packing for the past 2 weeks, but it's crunch time now. Friends are coming to help move tomorrow, muscle for the big stuff. My husband wants back in the house so badly that he finally agreed to my all my requests for furniture with the exception of the mattress and boxspring. I guess he doesn't want to sleep on the floor.
It's been a REALLY strange few days. I didn't expect to be so emotionally conflicted. It seems like everything I put in a box or a bin has some sort of memory attached to it. Memories of the good times, and of course, memories when times weren't so good. In one way I'm so glad to be getting out of this house, then again, it's reality biting me in the ass. This is really it. The end. I pack with a heavy heart. I took down all the wedding pictures, packed the frames and left him the photos. I can't bare to take them with me. I found my scrapbook, the one I made right after we were married... photos of my shower, the wedding, the reception, and the honeymoon. It seems like a lifetime ago. I was so in love, so naive, so unsuspecting. *sigh*... I wonder, "How did I let things turn out this way?"
I honestly thought I was marrying forever, that we would grow old together. Then I think, "could I have done something different?" The violence didn't escalate until I was pregnant. "Was I depressed? Did I cause it? Maybe things didn't get better after I had our daughter because I was suffering from post-pardom?"
Looking back on it now, I was depressed. But it wasn't post-pardom depression. I was depressed because of the way my husband had beaten me while I was pregnant. And after my daughter was born, (6 weeks early), when she was in the NICU and I was in the hospital having fallen victim to a nasty staff infection, my husband left us. Went back to NY for week. He claimed he had visitation with his other daughter. So he left a sick newborn in the NICU to spend a week with a healthy 7 year old. Made no sense... except now, it makes perfect sense. He never truly cared. Makes me queasy now just thinking about it. I begged him not to go. I felt abandoned.
Kind of like how I felt when I found out back in February that he had been having an affair. I just want to scream at him, "HOW DARE YOU!! After all the shit I have put up with, all your lies, your abuse, your emotional torment, now you decide to throw it all away. And for what? Some 2 dollar tramp who strokes your ego?" I get teary eyed and then angry because I told myself I wouldn't shed another tear for him. Then I realize, once again, she did me a favor. I should be thanking her. Because deep down I know, if I hadn't have discovered the affair, I would still be with him. I would still be enduring his violence, his heart wrenching words, and his soul crushing actions.
How do I get passed the hurt? How do I stop loving him? Maybe I am as crazy as he claims. How in God's name does someone still love a man who has slapped her, backhanded her, thrown her into walls and doors, pushed her down the stairs, abandoned her when her baby was in the NICU, and cheated on her? I truly have no idea. I pray that it goes away and goes away quickly.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Sunday, April 17, 2011
The Blue Wall of Silence....
I haven't talked much about this since I began this blog... but here it is.
On the morning of the last time my husband assaulted me, I called a mutual friend for help. The friend is the Chief of Police here in our town, a good friend of my husband's, and someone who I've known all my life. I told him what happened over the phone. I begged him to talk my husband. I was crying, upset, and bleeding. (Please understand that my intentions initially were not to report the abuse as I was still clinging on to a broken marriage). My husband had left the house. He told me he'd find him and talk to him. A half hour later, the Chief called me back on the phone. He told me had found my husband and that my husband went to the PD to talk to him. My husband admitted that we got into a "scuffle". The Chief advised that he needed to complete an incident report and put it into the computer. He asked for a written statement. I declined to give one. My husband left the area that day and went to NYC. (He had a previously scheduled visit with his other daughter for February vacation.) This was a Thursday. I managed to collect myself, wash off the blood on my arms, take a few advils for my splitting headache (which was probably a concussion) and get myself to work. On Friday, the Chief called me back and again and asked me for a written statement. At that point, I wasn't sure what to do. Chief made sure to tell me that if I gave a statement my husband would most likely lose his job and be arrested. I asked him, "I already gave you a verbal statement over the phone, can't you use that?" He never answered me directly and instead asked once again for a written statement. The conversation ended quickly as it seemed he was annoyed with me. Over the weekend I had many nasty conversations with my husband. I also discovered proof that he had been having an affair. Emails, phone records, etc all showed what he had been doing for the last several months. On the following Tuesday I stopped by the PD to find out what was happening. I spoke directly to the Chief. He showed me the incident report that he had typed and put into the computer. I was absolutely heartbroken as I read it. NO WHERE did it mention the things that I told him about the assault. He didn't include how my husband had grabbed me, slammed into the closet door, the wall, and the window frame. He didn't include how he held my wrists so tight that his nails dug into me causing me to bleed. He didn't include how he threw me onto the bed face first and pinned me down. In his report, he called it "a marital dispute". I told him, "it was a lot more than that." He said, "well that's how I remember it". At that moment, I knew exactly what was happening. The Chief was going to cover for my husband. The Chief obviously read the emotion on my face. He quickly said, "well I can change the report if I need to." Then he sarcastically said, "Well its not like you had any bruises or marks or anything." At that point, anger took over. I hauled up the sleeves of my baggy sweatshirt I was wearing and sarcastically said, "what do you think?" My wrists and lower arms were covered with fingerprint bruises and I had scabs where his nails had dug into me. The Chief looked at my arms and sighed. He said, "Well since you have marks, I guess I'd better assign this case to **** " (another officer whose name I will omit for now). "I can't assign this case to ***** or ***** because neither one of them like your husband and it wouldn't be fair. I can't do the investigation because I'm too close to both of you." I said, "OK". He proceeded to tell me that the officer who would be investigating was off until Friday but that he would contact me then.
I left the PD feeling dejected. This was not going to go anywhere, I thought. Needless to say, the apparent investigating officer never made contact with me. I filed for divorce that week. Over the course of the next 2 weeks, my husband made a variety of insinuating threats towards me. I grew more afraid by the day. He was coming into the house when I wasn't home and taking things. He was arrogant and smug about everything as if to say he was getting away with it and there was nothing I could do about it. He had shacked up with his bimbo girlfriend a few towns away (the town he actually worked in) and was publically talking trash about me and our divorce. On a Monday, almost 2 weeks after I had visited the police Chief, we got a nasty snow storm. I didn't have to work, as school had been cancelled. I initially decided to keep my 3 year old daughter home with me and not send her to daycare. I was folding laundry in our bedroom and my daughter was playing on the other side of the room. She was playing in front of her father's nightstand on his side of the bed. All of sudden I heard "clinking"... like she was tapping metal together. I asked her what she was doing. She said "playing". I went around the bed to investigate. Much to my horror, I discovered her playing with 6 bullets (at the time I wasn't sure what caliber they were). I asked her where she got these. She told me on Daddy's nightstand. Now I had just vaccuumed this room two days before and never noticed any random bullets sitting on his nightstand. I immediately began to panic. He had been in the house again and I fully believed (and still do to this day) that he left those bullets as a message to me. I swooped up my daughter and took her to daycare. Then I went back down to the police department with bullets in hand.
When I arrived, two officers were at the PD doing paperwork. The Chief was not there. I spoke to both officers, one of which was supposed to be assigned my case. He advised that the Chief had never assigned him my case. I got emotional and started to cry. I handed over the bullets and told them what happened. Not only was I afraid for myself, but now my husband had put my daughter in the middle of it. THIS WAS THE FINAL STRAW. The officers exchanged worried glances at each other. Both advised that they thought the Chief was handling this. One of the officers advised he would call the DA's office immediately and ask for their assistance with this. The other asked me if there were any more firearms in the house. Where was my husband's service weapon? I told him I didn't know but that I had a shotgun in the house. I told him I didn't want ANY firearms in the house at this time. He told me to go home and gather everything up that I didn't want and bring them back down to the PD. He would put them in the locker and store them for me.
I returned home, shaken and scared. I went to get my shotgun. It was gone as were the boxes of shells that went with it. The only thing I found were 2 boxes of 38 shells. I didn't know my husband still had a 38. But I didn't find his 45 service weapon, or anything else. He had taken everything. I called down to the PD and told the officers that my shotgun was gone. One of the officers advised he was on his way to my house. When he arrived he advised he would enter my shotgun into the computer system as stolen. He further advised that he had spoken to the DA's office and was advised to "take over the case". He told me he would come see me the next day at school for the interview as I didn't want to do the interview in front of my daughter.
On Tuesday, March 8, almost 3 weeks after the assault, I was finally interviewed by law enforcement about the incident. I was also informed that he had found my shotgun, that my husband had taken it, and allegedly my husband's employer, his Chief had the shotgun in his possession. He further told the officer that he would not return my shotgun because "she doesn't need it". I gave a written statement and provided the officer with a history of past abuse. It was emotional, embarrassing, and closure all at the same time. On March 10th, exactly 3 weeks after he assaulted me, my husband was arrested and charged with domestic violence.
Since that time, even more police cover-up has occurred. Continuing cover-up by the Chief of the PD in our town and cover-up by the police Chief who my husband worked for. I'll talk about those later on. But I will say that the officers of our local police department have been empathetic, encouraging, and extremely supportive throughout this entire ordeal. They've increased patrol in my neighborhood and continued to check in on me and my daughter. All while working against their very corrupt and very discouraging police Chief.
On the morning of the last time my husband assaulted me, I called a mutual friend for help. The friend is the Chief of Police here in our town, a good friend of my husband's, and someone who I've known all my life. I told him what happened over the phone. I begged him to talk my husband. I was crying, upset, and bleeding. (Please understand that my intentions initially were not to report the abuse as I was still clinging on to a broken marriage). My husband had left the house. He told me he'd find him and talk to him. A half hour later, the Chief called me back on the phone. He told me had found my husband and that my husband went to the PD to talk to him. My husband admitted that we got into a "scuffle". The Chief advised that he needed to complete an incident report and put it into the computer. He asked for a written statement. I declined to give one. My husband left the area that day and went to NYC. (He had a previously scheduled visit with his other daughter for February vacation.) This was a Thursday. I managed to collect myself, wash off the blood on my arms, take a few advils for my splitting headache (which was probably a concussion) and get myself to work. On Friday, the Chief called me back and again and asked me for a written statement. At that point, I wasn't sure what to do. Chief made sure to tell me that if I gave a statement my husband would most likely lose his job and be arrested. I asked him, "I already gave you a verbal statement over the phone, can't you use that?" He never answered me directly and instead asked once again for a written statement. The conversation ended quickly as it seemed he was annoyed with me. Over the weekend I had many nasty conversations with my husband. I also discovered proof that he had been having an affair. Emails, phone records, etc all showed what he had been doing for the last several months. On the following Tuesday I stopped by the PD to find out what was happening. I spoke directly to the Chief. He showed me the incident report that he had typed and put into the computer. I was absolutely heartbroken as I read it. NO WHERE did it mention the things that I told him about the assault. He didn't include how my husband had grabbed me, slammed into the closet door, the wall, and the window frame. He didn't include how he held my wrists so tight that his nails dug into me causing me to bleed. He didn't include how he threw me onto the bed face first and pinned me down. In his report, he called it "a marital dispute". I told him, "it was a lot more than that." He said, "well that's how I remember it". At that moment, I knew exactly what was happening. The Chief was going to cover for my husband. The Chief obviously read the emotion on my face. He quickly said, "well I can change the report if I need to." Then he sarcastically said, "Well its not like you had any bruises or marks or anything." At that point, anger took over. I hauled up the sleeves of my baggy sweatshirt I was wearing and sarcastically said, "what do you think?" My wrists and lower arms were covered with fingerprint bruises and I had scabs where his nails had dug into me. The Chief looked at my arms and sighed. He said, "Well since you have marks, I guess I'd better assign this case to **** " (another officer whose name I will omit for now). "I can't assign this case to ***** or ***** because neither one of them like your husband and it wouldn't be fair. I can't do the investigation because I'm too close to both of you." I said, "OK". He proceeded to tell me that the officer who would be investigating was off until Friday but that he would contact me then.
I left the PD feeling dejected. This was not going to go anywhere, I thought. Needless to say, the apparent investigating officer never made contact with me. I filed for divorce that week. Over the course of the next 2 weeks, my husband made a variety of insinuating threats towards me. I grew more afraid by the day. He was coming into the house when I wasn't home and taking things. He was arrogant and smug about everything as if to say he was getting away with it and there was nothing I could do about it. He had shacked up with his bimbo girlfriend a few towns away (the town he actually worked in) and was publically talking trash about me and our divorce. On a Monday, almost 2 weeks after I had visited the police Chief, we got a nasty snow storm. I didn't have to work, as school had been cancelled. I initially decided to keep my 3 year old daughter home with me and not send her to daycare. I was folding laundry in our bedroom and my daughter was playing on the other side of the room. She was playing in front of her father's nightstand on his side of the bed. All of sudden I heard "clinking"... like she was tapping metal together. I asked her what she was doing. She said "playing". I went around the bed to investigate. Much to my horror, I discovered her playing with 6 bullets (at the time I wasn't sure what caliber they were). I asked her where she got these. She told me on Daddy's nightstand. Now I had just vaccuumed this room two days before and never noticed any random bullets sitting on his nightstand. I immediately began to panic. He had been in the house again and I fully believed (and still do to this day) that he left those bullets as a message to me. I swooped up my daughter and took her to daycare. Then I went back down to the police department with bullets in hand.
When I arrived, two officers were at the PD doing paperwork. The Chief was not there. I spoke to both officers, one of which was supposed to be assigned my case. He advised that the Chief had never assigned him my case. I got emotional and started to cry. I handed over the bullets and told them what happened. Not only was I afraid for myself, but now my husband had put my daughter in the middle of it. THIS WAS THE FINAL STRAW. The officers exchanged worried glances at each other. Both advised that they thought the Chief was handling this. One of the officers advised he would call the DA's office immediately and ask for their assistance with this. The other asked me if there were any more firearms in the house. Where was my husband's service weapon? I told him I didn't know but that I had a shotgun in the house. I told him I didn't want ANY firearms in the house at this time. He told me to go home and gather everything up that I didn't want and bring them back down to the PD. He would put them in the locker and store them for me.
I returned home, shaken and scared. I went to get my shotgun. It was gone as were the boxes of shells that went with it. The only thing I found were 2 boxes of 38 shells. I didn't know my husband still had a 38. But I didn't find his 45 service weapon, or anything else. He had taken everything. I called down to the PD and told the officers that my shotgun was gone. One of the officers advised he was on his way to my house. When he arrived he advised he would enter my shotgun into the computer system as stolen. He further advised that he had spoken to the DA's office and was advised to "take over the case". He told me he would come see me the next day at school for the interview as I didn't want to do the interview in front of my daughter.
On Tuesday, March 8, almost 3 weeks after the assault, I was finally interviewed by law enforcement about the incident. I was also informed that he had found my shotgun, that my husband had taken it, and allegedly my husband's employer, his Chief had the shotgun in his possession. He further told the officer that he would not return my shotgun because "she doesn't need it". I gave a written statement and provided the officer with a history of past abuse. It was emotional, embarrassing, and closure all at the same time. On March 10th, exactly 3 weeks after he assaulted me, my husband was arrested and charged with domestic violence.
Since that time, even more police cover-up has occurred. Continuing cover-up by the Chief of the PD in our town and cover-up by the police Chief who my husband worked for. I'll talk about those later on. But I will say that the officers of our local police department have been empathetic, encouraging, and extremely supportive throughout this entire ordeal. They've increased patrol in my neighborhood and continued to check in on me and my daughter. All while working against their very corrupt and very discouraging police Chief.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
2 Days of Court....
After surviving my initial court hearing on the divorce, I walked away with a new found confidence. Unfortunately, it was short lived. After Tuesday's escapade, I now had to face criminal court on Wednesday. My husband had filed a motion in criminal court to amend his bail conditions. And after seeing how angry he was during the case management hearing for the divorce, I was even more fearful of the hearing in criminal court.
According to his motion to amend the bail conditions he wanted 4 main things: 1) he wanted to be able to consume alcohol; 2) he wanted his firearms back; 3) he wanted to be free from bail checks, searches, etc; and 4) he wanted the no-contact with the residence to be removed. I was told by my rock and friend, Art (who works for the DV organization I was working with) that this was purely an intimidation tactic on my husband's part. I had minimal contact with the DA's office prior to going to court. I spoke a few times with a victim's advocate but didn't feel like she gave me any real information. Sometimes I think they go through sort of things so much that they become numb to them. The VA assigned to my case, while seemingly a very nice person, did very little to calm my nerves or answer my questions.
Art met me in Bangor before the hearing. I parked in a neutral spot, and he picked me up so that we could ride to the courthouse together. He made a phone call to the DA's office to let them know that we were on our way. He requested to wait in a room far from the typical holding area but the DA's office advised there probably would be none available. When we arrived, my husband was not there yet. I was able to breath a sigh of relief. We waited in the main area. I was sooo incredibly nervous. Art kept my mind busy by explaining every possible thing he could. I glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of my husband's vehicle. I saw that he had arrived. Art immediately could read my face and told me to stay calm, that my husband wouldn't do or say anything to me since we were in a very public area.
On a side note and to give you a little history, my husband knows Art very well. Art is a very public figure here, as his daughter was killed by her abuser. Since that time he has been very active in legislation against DV and the local advocacy group. Art also works with many law enforcement officers, taking referrals when they work DV cases. My husband actually worked with Art on a few of his cases. However, I also know Art from my work. As a high school guidance counselor, Art sat on the school board when I got hired years ago. Ever since I made the first phone call to the DV agency, Art has been my biggest support and source of greatest strength.
My husband walked into the courthouse, went through security, and walked our way. He spotted me immediately, looking just a bit less smug than the day before in divorce court. I was actually impressed with the amount of security at the Bangor courthouse... much different than the local district courthouse I had been to the day before. My husband's face was already red, his anger was just starting to bubble. However, when he saw who was with me, when he saw Art, his face went 10 shades of crimson. He snorted as he walked by us and seemed to be taking refuge in the corner all by himself. He had come to court alone and was obviously waiting for his attorney. He sent glaring looks my way. Thankfully, Art positioned himself between the two us, as the color drained from my face. I was standing, afraid to sit down. My eyes nervously searching for exits should I need to bolt. My legs were shaking and I wondered if my husband could tell. Fortunately, the victim's advocate found us shortly thereafter and escorted us to a small conference room. We discussed the amendments that my husband was requesting. I managed to find a small voice and answer her questions. I didn't care whether or not he could drink alcohol, but the thought of him getting his firearms back absolutely terrified me. She went to get one of the attorneys to talk with me further. He seemed to be an odd little man, dressed in a suit with sneakers on. He seemed very pleasant but I thought, "OMG this is the attorney with the DA's office??" I agreed to the allowance of alcohol but the attorney advised we would fight everything else. He asked me if I still lived in the house. I told him, yes but that I wanted to move as soon as my husband agreed to the division of property and furniture.
We went into the courtroom. My husband and his lawyer were in the gallery on the far left side and Art and I sat on the far right side. I wanted as much space between us a possible. Shortly, the victim's advocate joined us. I dared to glance over at my husband. He was stone-faced, but still extremely red. He glared at me hard. I quickly looked away and sunk down into my chair. Art patted my arm and told me everything would be OK.
We waited almost 2 hours, while the court heard a variety of arraignments. At one point, a DV case was being arraigned. The man had a drug and alcohol problem; the woman looked all of 20 years old. She was there on behalf of her boyfriend (even though he had attacked her just a few days before). I remember sitting there thinking.. "that could have been me". She addressed the court and asked for the charges to be dismissed. She claimed that she had "made up" the allegations. The judge, a tall, lanky man sat on the bench and pondered as she spoke. A full minute passed after she was done speaking. Then the judge addressed them both. He spoke about domestic violence, DV laws, and the condition the woman was in when law enforcement got to her. He told her that DV laws were in place for the protection of the public and at this time, he still believed she needed to be protected, whether she thought so or not. He set the case for another hearing, set the man's bail at 5000 cash, and told her she needed to seek counseling. I realized that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I felt so bad for her. I just wanted to go over and shake some sense into her. She had no idea what she was doing. She loved him, and it didn't matter what he had done to her. I knew what that was like, I knew because I used to feel that way.
The victim's advocate leaned over and whispered to me, "Do you want to address the court?" I managed to mumble "no" even though I felt like screaming it. Suddenly, my confidence had waivered and I thought, "please god, don't let me be like that other woman". The judge called for my husband's case. My husband and his attorney rose and went to the front of the courtroom. His attorney babbled on about the bail conditions. I vaguely remember what he was saying. It seemed like I was dreaming the whole thing and watching it from outside. The odd little man who had been in to see me just a while before, stood to address the court. I gained a new found respect for him. While he wasn't much to look it, he did appear to be a good lawyer. He argued against all the proposed bail amendments with the exception of the alcohol consumption. Tears continued to escape my eyes as I sat there silently. In the end, the judge agreed to allow him the alcohol but denied everything else. He did put into the order that my husband "could return to the residence only after the victim vacates it"... and that he needed permission from the District Attorney's office to do so.
It was over. I felt numb. Art said, "We won. He's not going to get his firearms back." Then he apologized for me having to go through this. I managed to smile for a brief moment. I felt better, relief. Art and I went to a bakery and had a cup of coffee. He said I needed time to process everything and he would sit with me and do that. We talked for about an hour. He was right. I felt sooo much better.
While court was NOT as scary as I had anticipated, I could see the writing on the wall. This was not going to be an easy case. My husband's attorney would drag it out as long as possible. It was definitely going to go to trial. On the drive home I remember thinking, "Dear God, I hope I have the strength to make it through."
According to his motion to amend the bail conditions he wanted 4 main things: 1) he wanted to be able to consume alcohol; 2) he wanted his firearms back; 3) he wanted to be free from bail checks, searches, etc; and 4) he wanted the no-contact with the residence to be removed. I was told by my rock and friend, Art (who works for the DV organization I was working with) that this was purely an intimidation tactic on my husband's part. I had minimal contact with the DA's office prior to going to court. I spoke a few times with a victim's advocate but didn't feel like she gave me any real information. Sometimes I think they go through sort of things so much that they become numb to them. The VA assigned to my case, while seemingly a very nice person, did very little to calm my nerves or answer my questions.
Art met me in Bangor before the hearing. I parked in a neutral spot, and he picked me up so that we could ride to the courthouse together. He made a phone call to the DA's office to let them know that we were on our way. He requested to wait in a room far from the typical holding area but the DA's office advised there probably would be none available. When we arrived, my husband was not there yet. I was able to breath a sigh of relief. We waited in the main area. I was sooo incredibly nervous. Art kept my mind busy by explaining every possible thing he could. I glanced out the window and caught a glimpse of my husband's vehicle. I saw that he had arrived. Art immediately could read my face and told me to stay calm, that my husband wouldn't do or say anything to me since we were in a very public area.
On a side note and to give you a little history, my husband knows Art very well. Art is a very public figure here, as his daughter was killed by her abuser. Since that time he has been very active in legislation against DV and the local advocacy group. Art also works with many law enforcement officers, taking referrals when they work DV cases. My husband actually worked with Art on a few of his cases. However, I also know Art from my work. As a high school guidance counselor, Art sat on the school board when I got hired years ago. Ever since I made the first phone call to the DV agency, Art has been my biggest support and source of greatest strength.
My husband walked into the courthouse, went through security, and walked our way. He spotted me immediately, looking just a bit less smug than the day before in divorce court. I was actually impressed with the amount of security at the Bangor courthouse... much different than the local district courthouse I had been to the day before. My husband's face was already red, his anger was just starting to bubble. However, when he saw who was with me, when he saw Art, his face went 10 shades of crimson. He snorted as he walked by us and seemed to be taking refuge in the corner all by himself. He had come to court alone and was obviously waiting for his attorney. He sent glaring looks my way. Thankfully, Art positioned himself between the two us, as the color drained from my face. I was standing, afraid to sit down. My eyes nervously searching for exits should I need to bolt. My legs were shaking and I wondered if my husband could tell. Fortunately, the victim's advocate found us shortly thereafter and escorted us to a small conference room. We discussed the amendments that my husband was requesting. I managed to find a small voice and answer her questions. I didn't care whether or not he could drink alcohol, but the thought of him getting his firearms back absolutely terrified me. She went to get one of the attorneys to talk with me further. He seemed to be an odd little man, dressed in a suit with sneakers on. He seemed very pleasant but I thought, "OMG this is the attorney with the DA's office??" I agreed to the allowance of alcohol but the attorney advised we would fight everything else. He asked me if I still lived in the house. I told him, yes but that I wanted to move as soon as my husband agreed to the division of property and furniture.
We went into the courtroom. My husband and his lawyer were in the gallery on the far left side and Art and I sat on the far right side. I wanted as much space between us a possible. Shortly, the victim's advocate joined us. I dared to glance over at my husband. He was stone-faced, but still extremely red. He glared at me hard. I quickly looked away and sunk down into my chair. Art patted my arm and told me everything would be OK.
We waited almost 2 hours, while the court heard a variety of arraignments. At one point, a DV case was being arraigned. The man had a drug and alcohol problem; the woman looked all of 20 years old. She was there on behalf of her boyfriend (even though he had attacked her just a few days before). I remember sitting there thinking.. "that could have been me". She addressed the court and asked for the charges to be dismissed. She claimed that she had "made up" the allegations. The judge, a tall, lanky man sat on the bench and pondered as she spoke. A full minute passed after she was done speaking. Then the judge addressed them both. He spoke about domestic violence, DV laws, and the condition the woman was in when law enforcement got to her. He told her that DV laws were in place for the protection of the public and at this time, he still believed she needed to be protected, whether she thought so or not. He set the case for another hearing, set the man's bail at 5000 cash, and told her she needed to seek counseling. I realized that tears were rolling down my cheeks. I felt so bad for her. I just wanted to go over and shake some sense into her. She had no idea what she was doing. She loved him, and it didn't matter what he had done to her. I knew what that was like, I knew because I used to feel that way.
The victim's advocate leaned over and whispered to me, "Do you want to address the court?" I managed to mumble "no" even though I felt like screaming it. Suddenly, my confidence had waivered and I thought, "please god, don't let me be like that other woman". The judge called for my husband's case. My husband and his attorney rose and went to the front of the courtroom. His attorney babbled on about the bail conditions. I vaguely remember what he was saying. It seemed like I was dreaming the whole thing and watching it from outside. The odd little man who had been in to see me just a while before, stood to address the court. I gained a new found respect for him. While he wasn't much to look it, he did appear to be a good lawyer. He argued against all the proposed bail amendments with the exception of the alcohol consumption. Tears continued to escape my eyes as I sat there silently. In the end, the judge agreed to allow him the alcohol but denied everything else. He did put into the order that my husband "could return to the residence only after the victim vacates it"... and that he needed permission from the District Attorney's office to do so.
It was over. I felt numb. Art said, "We won. He's not going to get his firearms back." Then he apologized for me having to go through this. I managed to smile for a brief moment. I felt better, relief. Art and I went to a bakery and had a cup of coffee. He said I needed time to process everything and he would sit with me and do that. We talked for about an hour. He was right. I felt sooo much better.
While court was NOT as scary as I had anticipated, I could see the writing on the wall. This was not going to be an easy case. My husband's attorney would drag it out as long as possible. It was definitely going to go to trial. On the drive home I remember thinking, "Dear God, I hope I have the strength to make it through."
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Survival!
Tuesday morning, 10:45am. The first court hearing on our divorce. I was so incredibly nervous. The thought of just walking into the court house and coming face to face with him absolutely petrified me. This was our "case management conference hearing". If your like me, you have absolutely no idea what that means. My lawyer had explained to me that not much was going to happen. The magistrate (I still haven't figured out the difference between a magistrate and a judge) would ask each party if any agreements had been reached. Probably none would be, and that would be reported to the court. The magistrate will then set the case for mediation.
I brought my mother with me to court. Most of my friends had to work and I just wasn't sure that I could walk into that court house by myself. (Not to mention, that it's incredibly difficult to admit, even to your closest friends, how terrifying this was for you.) My lawyer was already going to be there on another case and advised that she would "find me". (It's strange at how something so minuscule could be so terrifying.) As I said, the thought of facing him by myself was more than I could bare. My mother was actually pleased that I asked her to accompany me. Of all times, this was one where I needed my mom. The district court house for our area is tiny. No security to speak of, one court room, the clerk's office, a 3 or 4 small conference rooms. When we arrived, we walked down the hallway toward the "holding area" (a little open area with benches) in front of the court room. He was already there with his attorney. Our eyes met for just a moment, and suddenly I couldn't breath. I turned to make a hasty retreat but then I heard my attorney's voice call my name and motion me into one of the conference rooms. She advised that there was still no agreement on property (aka furniture, belongings, etc) but that his attorney had submitted a "child support worksheet". I advised her that on Saturday I received a check from him, in the amount of $85.00 and it was marked "child support" on the subject line. She confirmed that according to the formula, he was to pay $85.00 per week in child support. She handed me a copy of the worksheet. I looked it over, still trying to catch my breath. Once again, I realized he had lied... lied about his income on the worksheet. He claimed that his NYPD retirement was $33,000 per year. I told her his income was $58,000 per year and that I had given her copies of his 2010 W-2s to prove it. She said she knew that, but that "this was not the time to dispute his claim." She went on to say that it was better to receive SOMETHING now, and we could argue about the amount later. My head was spinning and I was furious. It seemed like once again, he was getting away with his lies.
We entered the courtroom and sat down at our table. He glared at me a few times and I sunk deeper into my chair. The magistrate asked several questions of both attorneys. Things happened so quickly that I wasn't exactly sure what the magistrate was saying until he looked directly at me and asked, "Is there a Protection from Abuse Order that I should know about?" My lawyer responded, "No, but there are bail conditions." While the magistrate continued to look at me, he asked "Bail conditions?" It was obvious he was trying to engage me to speak but all I could do was sink even further down in my chair and only nod. The magistrate tossed a glaring look at my husband and then his eyes returned to me. He asked in what seemed to be a very easing voice, "Is there a paternity issue?" I shook my head no. They moved on to agreements. My attorney reported to him that the only agreement we had was a temporary agreement in child support. My husband's mouthpiece of an attorney handed the magistrate the child support worksheet. He looked it over. My attorney rose to speak and my husband's attorney interrupted. He babbled on about the criminal charge of domestic violence, the lack of evidence in the case, etc etc. The magistrate cut him off in mid-sentence and directed his attention back to me. He said, "Mr. P----s income appears to be $33,000. Is that correct?" I shook my head no. My attorney rose again and said that we dispute the amount but are willing to agree to a TEMPORARY order of support (emphasizing temporary) pending mediation. My husband's attorney began again and the magistrate, once again, cut him off in mid-sentence. He said, "I will enter this into the order as a TEMPORARY order of support." He then spoke directly to me and advised that this hearing was only for status. He did not have the authority at this time to settle any disputes but that my attorney would have the opportunity to do so at a later date. He asked, "Do you understand?" I managed to whisper, "yes". He gave me, what seemed like, an empathetic look. My husband's attorney then stood up and began challenging my right to remain in the residence, advising that his client wanted to move back into HIS house. My attorney stood and responded that her client was willing to move but only once the property got settled. My husband's attorney kept babbling. The magistrate then said to my husband's lawyer, "Your client needs to settle the property if he wants to move back into the house". He set the case for mediation on June 14th followed by another status hearing 2 hours later.
It was over so quickly, that I just sat at the table for moment. I heard my husband's attorney say to him, "Before you leave, we need to go over the list of what she wants again and see what you can agree to." Did what I think just happen, actually happen?? Did it seem like the magistrate understood what I was going through? My attorney looked at me and smiled. OMFG... it did!!! For the first time since this entire mess began, I felt just a smidgen of confidence. My husband had NOT won the first court battle of sorts. He did NOT have the edge at this point. Suddenly, it felt like 4 tons of weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was able to catch my breath. My eyes welled up with tears... but this time they were tears of joy. I stole just a quick glance at my husband. He was red-faced, ears were glowing, I knew he was furious. His attorney seemed to be attempting to calm him down as they walked out of the courtroom. I rose on shaky legs, managed to stand, and held on to the table for just a moment. My attorney advised that she would see me tomorrow in criminal court for his bail conditions hearing. I nodded and walked out of the courtroom. My husband was sitting out on the benches with his lawyer reviewing the household inventory. He looked up and glared at me. But his stare was different. Gone was the arrogance and smugness. I mustered just enough gall to meet his glare. His jaw clenched. While my mouth remained straight, my eyes smiled. I could feel the confidence building instantaneously. I looked back at him for what seemed like an eternity. His face turned more red and he slouched down on the bench. My mother was at my side, with a big smile pasted on her face. I straightened my posture, pushed my shoulders back, lifted my head high and walked out of the courthouse. I had survived!
I brought my mother with me to court. Most of my friends had to work and I just wasn't sure that I could walk into that court house by myself. (Not to mention, that it's incredibly difficult to admit, even to your closest friends, how terrifying this was for you.) My lawyer was already going to be there on another case and advised that she would "find me". (It's strange at how something so minuscule could be so terrifying.) As I said, the thought of facing him by myself was more than I could bare. My mother was actually pleased that I asked her to accompany me. Of all times, this was one where I needed my mom. The district court house for our area is tiny. No security to speak of, one court room, the clerk's office, a 3 or 4 small conference rooms. When we arrived, we walked down the hallway toward the "holding area" (a little open area with benches) in front of the court room. He was already there with his attorney. Our eyes met for just a moment, and suddenly I couldn't breath. I turned to make a hasty retreat but then I heard my attorney's voice call my name and motion me into one of the conference rooms. She advised that there was still no agreement on property (aka furniture, belongings, etc) but that his attorney had submitted a "child support worksheet". I advised her that on Saturday I received a check from him, in the amount of $85.00 and it was marked "child support" on the subject line. She confirmed that according to the formula, he was to pay $85.00 per week in child support. She handed me a copy of the worksheet. I looked it over, still trying to catch my breath. Once again, I realized he had lied... lied about his income on the worksheet. He claimed that his NYPD retirement was $33,000 per year. I told her his income was $58,000 per year and that I had given her copies of his 2010 W-2s to prove it. She said she knew that, but that "this was not the time to dispute his claim." She went on to say that it was better to receive SOMETHING now, and we could argue about the amount later. My head was spinning and I was furious. It seemed like once again, he was getting away with his lies.
We entered the courtroom and sat down at our table. He glared at me a few times and I sunk deeper into my chair. The magistrate asked several questions of both attorneys. Things happened so quickly that I wasn't exactly sure what the magistrate was saying until he looked directly at me and asked, "Is there a Protection from Abuse Order that I should know about?" My lawyer responded, "No, but there are bail conditions." While the magistrate continued to look at me, he asked "Bail conditions?" It was obvious he was trying to engage me to speak but all I could do was sink even further down in my chair and only nod. The magistrate tossed a glaring look at my husband and then his eyes returned to me. He asked in what seemed to be a very easing voice, "Is there a paternity issue?" I shook my head no. They moved on to agreements. My attorney reported to him that the only agreement we had was a temporary agreement in child support. My husband's mouthpiece of an attorney handed the magistrate the child support worksheet. He looked it over. My attorney rose to speak and my husband's attorney interrupted. He babbled on about the criminal charge of domestic violence, the lack of evidence in the case, etc etc. The magistrate cut him off in mid-sentence and directed his attention back to me. He said, "Mr. P----s income appears to be $33,000. Is that correct?" I shook my head no. My attorney rose again and said that we dispute the amount but are willing to agree to a TEMPORARY order of support (emphasizing temporary) pending mediation. My husband's attorney began again and the magistrate, once again, cut him off in mid-sentence. He said, "I will enter this into the order as a TEMPORARY order of support." He then spoke directly to me and advised that this hearing was only for status. He did not have the authority at this time to settle any disputes but that my attorney would have the opportunity to do so at a later date. He asked, "Do you understand?" I managed to whisper, "yes". He gave me, what seemed like, an empathetic look. My husband's attorney then stood up and began challenging my right to remain in the residence, advising that his client wanted to move back into HIS house. My attorney stood and responded that her client was willing to move but only once the property got settled. My husband's attorney kept babbling. The magistrate then said to my husband's lawyer, "Your client needs to settle the property if he wants to move back into the house". He set the case for mediation on June 14th followed by another status hearing 2 hours later.
It was over so quickly, that I just sat at the table for moment. I heard my husband's attorney say to him, "Before you leave, we need to go over the list of what she wants again and see what you can agree to." Did what I think just happen, actually happen?? Did it seem like the magistrate understood what I was going through? My attorney looked at me and smiled. OMFG... it did!!! For the first time since this entire mess began, I felt just a smidgen of confidence. My husband had NOT won the first court battle of sorts. He did NOT have the edge at this point. Suddenly, it felt like 4 tons of weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was able to catch my breath. My eyes welled up with tears... but this time they were tears of joy. I stole just a quick glance at my husband. He was red-faced, ears were glowing, I knew he was furious. His attorney seemed to be attempting to calm him down as they walked out of the courtroom. I rose on shaky legs, managed to stand, and held on to the table for just a moment. My attorney advised that she would see me tomorrow in criminal court for his bail conditions hearing. I nodded and walked out of the courtroom. My husband was sitting out on the benches with his lawyer reviewing the household inventory. He looked up and glared at me. But his stare was different. Gone was the arrogance and smugness. I mustered just enough gall to meet his glare. His jaw clenched. While my mouth remained straight, my eyes smiled. I could feel the confidence building instantaneously. I looked back at him for what seemed like an eternity. His face turned more red and he slouched down on the bench. My mother was at my side, with a big smile pasted on her face. I straightened my posture, pushed my shoulders back, lifted my head high and walked out of the courthouse. I had survived!
Monday, April 11, 2011
Feeling shaky about tomorrow...
Monday night and I'm feeling shaky about tomorrow. It's a big day for me. First time since he was arrested that I'll be seeing him. We have our case management conference in the morning. I have been so incredibly torn since this all began. Part of me just wants it to be over, to not have to deal with him and his attorney anymore... to run away and make a fresh start, free from any belongings we shared together, bought together, or found together. But then the other half of me is stubborn, digging in my heels, and not going to give him one single thing without a fight. I'm not sure which half is right or better. I have friends who say "Get rid of him, you can always buy new stuff." Others say, "Don't give in. Fight for every item you possibly can and for every dollar you can possibly squeeze out of him." The first choice is easy but it feels like he wins, he gets the house, all the appliances, all the furniture. I don't like to lose and why should I feel like the loser? He beat me, he cheated on me, he has NO right to win.
The other road, however, is a long one. It requires so much strength, I'm not sure I have it in me. To dig my heels in and stand my ground when I'm scared to death to even look him in the eye... I'm not sure I have the stamina. And for what? A couch that is MAYBE worth $200 bucks now? A dining room table? A washer and dryer that's almost 10 years old? I wish I knew which way to go, which fork to take.
Thus far, I've been taking the more difficult road. But I need to know if it's worth it. It's costing me more money, more time, and more stress... but in the end, will I feel more successful? If I don't fight for what I deserve, years down the road will I be able to look at myself in the mirror and still hold my head high?
It's mindboggling and exhausting to think about. If anyone has any advice, thoughts, or suggestions, I certainly would like to hear them.
The other road, however, is a long one. It requires so much strength, I'm not sure I have it in me. To dig my heels in and stand my ground when I'm scared to death to even look him in the eye... I'm not sure I have the stamina. And for what? A couch that is MAYBE worth $200 bucks now? A dining room table? A washer and dryer that's almost 10 years old? I wish I knew which way to go, which fork to take.
Thus far, I've been taking the more difficult road. But I need to know if it's worth it. It's costing me more money, more time, and more stress... but in the end, will I feel more successful? If I don't fight for what I deserve, years down the road will I be able to look at myself in the mirror and still hold my head high?
It's mindboggling and exhausting to think about. If anyone has any advice, thoughts, or suggestions, I certainly would like to hear them.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Emotional...
It's Sunday evening, baby's asleep, and it seems instead of enjoying the evening I'm rehashing the past. So many emotions running through me right now. Pain, hurt, anger, and disapointment to name a few. I'm so angry at him, for lying.. for cheating.. for making my life a living hell. He controlled me for far too long. I'm also angry at myself for putting up with it. How does this happen to someone like me??!! I'm a middle class, well educated, working mother. This wasn't supposed to happen to me. Why did I allow this to happen?? I'm a licensed social worker for crying out loud. I know the signs, I know the profile. Yet, it did happen to me... it still is happening to me.
The trail of domestic violence is a bizarre one for sure. I can remember one afternoon a few years back. It started out like any other day. Husband was home for the weekend from NY. We enjoyed the morning. I was busy planning for the baby. I was 5 months along. I remember I was feeling very hormonal. He was annoyed. He had emotional needs that I was unable to attend to at that moment. We started arguing, although I don't remember what it was over. What I do remember is crying and him standing over me screaming. Then I felt that sting, my ear popped as his hand came down across the side of my head. I remember fighting back, kicking at him as he pushed me back against the couch. He grabbed my hair and hauled me up to my feet. I tried to run but he caught me in the hallway, pushing me so hard I collided with the banister on the stairs. He was still screaming at me. I got to my feet and managed to get upstairs. He chased after me, catching me on the landing. He backhanded me with such force that I went flying into a door, smashed my head, and then fell to the floor. I layed there in a heap, actually thinking that I just wanted to die. He started to walk away. I got up and ran for the bedroom. I knew there was one thing that would stop him. If I could just get to it. I ran and dove for the bed, reaching for his off-duty revolver. I felt it in my hands but then I felt his hands on my arms, squeezing and pulling. For just a brief second I had the gun pointed at him but he overpowered me. I can remember him screaming at me how crazy I was as he took it away. Then he just started laughing. Before walking away, he spit on me and called me a fat c*nt. I layed on the bed for hours in complete numbness.
That is just one example of many that occurred throughout the course of my marriage. Why I say a life with DV is bizarre... is because tonight, as I sit here at my computer, it's not THAT memory that hurts the most. It's not the many other examples I can give you. But it's the memory of him telling me "I don't love you anymore" and finding out that he had been having an affair. It's twisted, totally irrational, and completely ridiculous. How can I hurt more from an affair he had with some dollar store bimbo than from the abuse he put me through? I don't have the answer. It makes no sense to me. But unfortunately, it's how I feel tonight.
Maybe I got used to it. Maybe I really believed that he would change. Maybe I believed I was somehow responsible for making him angry enough to hit me. All of the above are true. A reasonable and prudent person would say he never loved me to begin with if he treated me like that. Even worse, if he had not had an affair or told me he didn't love me anymore, would I still be tolerating his abuse? The answer to that nauseates me... because I know the answer.
So perhaps he did me a favor. The shredded pride is a tough pill to swallow. After putting up with all his bullsh*t, this is my reward. The public embarrassment, the town gossip, and the impending court dates are just as devastating. I pray for some relief. Everyday I get up, get dressed, and head out the door pasting on a fake smile. I can only hope that I have enough strength to survive the court hearings and trial. All the while, I'm silently collecting the pieces of a broken heart, wrapping them up tightly, and tucking them away. I just wish it didn't have to hurt so much. The heartache is more painful than any bruises or welts he ever left.
The trail of domestic violence is a bizarre one for sure. I can remember one afternoon a few years back. It started out like any other day. Husband was home for the weekend from NY. We enjoyed the morning. I was busy planning for the baby. I was 5 months along. I remember I was feeling very hormonal. He was annoyed. He had emotional needs that I was unable to attend to at that moment. We started arguing, although I don't remember what it was over. What I do remember is crying and him standing over me screaming. Then I felt that sting, my ear popped as his hand came down across the side of my head. I remember fighting back, kicking at him as he pushed me back against the couch. He grabbed my hair and hauled me up to my feet. I tried to run but he caught me in the hallway, pushing me so hard I collided with the banister on the stairs. He was still screaming at me. I got to my feet and managed to get upstairs. He chased after me, catching me on the landing. He backhanded me with such force that I went flying into a door, smashed my head, and then fell to the floor. I layed there in a heap, actually thinking that I just wanted to die. He started to walk away. I got up and ran for the bedroom. I knew there was one thing that would stop him. If I could just get to it. I ran and dove for the bed, reaching for his off-duty revolver. I felt it in my hands but then I felt his hands on my arms, squeezing and pulling. For just a brief second I had the gun pointed at him but he overpowered me. I can remember him screaming at me how crazy I was as he took it away. Then he just started laughing. Before walking away, he spit on me and called me a fat c*nt. I layed on the bed for hours in complete numbness.
That is just one example of many that occurred throughout the course of my marriage. Why I say a life with DV is bizarre... is because tonight, as I sit here at my computer, it's not THAT memory that hurts the most. It's not the many other examples I can give you. But it's the memory of him telling me "I don't love you anymore" and finding out that he had been having an affair. It's twisted, totally irrational, and completely ridiculous. How can I hurt more from an affair he had with some dollar store bimbo than from the abuse he put me through? I don't have the answer. It makes no sense to me. But unfortunately, it's how I feel tonight.
Maybe I got used to it. Maybe I really believed that he would change. Maybe I believed I was somehow responsible for making him angry enough to hit me. All of the above are true. A reasonable and prudent person would say he never loved me to begin with if he treated me like that. Even worse, if he had not had an affair or told me he didn't love me anymore, would I still be tolerating his abuse? The answer to that nauseates me... because I know the answer.
So perhaps he did me a favor. The shredded pride is a tough pill to swallow. After putting up with all his bullsh*t, this is my reward. The public embarrassment, the town gossip, and the impending court dates are just as devastating. I pray for some relief. Everyday I get up, get dressed, and head out the door pasting on a fake smile. I can only hope that I have enough strength to survive the court hearings and trial. All the while, I'm silently collecting the pieces of a broken heart, wrapping them up tightly, and tucking them away. I just wish it didn't have to hurt so much. The heartache is more painful than any bruises or welts he ever left.
Friday, April 1, 2011
I only THOUGHT today would be better....
I only thought today would be better. Snow day today, no work, no school. I thought it would just be a nice, relaxing day with my daughter. My dream was short-lived as my phone starting ringing off the hook. My husband made the headlines once again in a local newspaper. He pled "not guilty" at his arraignment on Wednesday. Newspaper quoted him / his attorney as requesting a jury trial. They went on to print part of my statement in the story. The statement that was attached to the arrest warrant... the statement that was made public.
The article does not portray me in a negative light, but to have my life out there in print is absolutely devastating. It's embarrassing, humiliating, and daunting. All part of it I suppose, but gives me little peace at this point. The phone calls, emails, txt messages have been coming in fast and furious. Some from friends concerned about me and how I'm taking this public notice of what happened... some from nosey nellies .. and some from "mutual friends" of mine and my husband's, probably probing for information they can pass on to him.
I walked into a local store earlier this morning to get my daily coffee, in my mind telling myself to hold my head high. People stared. There were whispers and a few pointers. I wanted to scream "what have I done wrong???" I was rescued by a friend who came up and gave me a big hug. I was fighting back tears that stung behind my eyes.
I made a phonecall to my friend who runs an advocacy agency for DV called Womancare. We talked for a long time. He gives me strength, hope, and reassurance. Art has been, and continues to be, my rock and one of my main supporters. That man should be nominated for Sainthood! Then the DA's office called, one of the Victim's Advocates. She asked me if I'd seen the paper. I told her no but that everyone is talking about it. She informed me that my husband's attorney has requested a Bail hearing. I asked what for? She advised that he's requesting to have his bail conditions changed. He wants to be able to consume alcohol (currently he's restricted from consumption or possession). He wants his firearms back (currently he's cannot possess, carry, or have access to any firearms). Lastly, he wants the court to order me and our daughter out of the house so he can return to "his" residence (currently he's prohibited from contact with me or contact with the residence). The tears that I had been fighting back all morning flowed freely down my face. My body tensed and I started to panic. I whispered to her, "why does he want his firearms back?" She advised that he's claiming he's looking for another law enforcement job and needs his weapon. For a second I couldn't breath, couldn't swallow, couldn't move. I was frozen in fear. Could they possibly give him back his arsenal of weapons??? She rambled on to say that I needed to be in court for this bail hearing, that I needed to contact my attorney and let her know, and she ended with a quick "don't worry". I felt like screaming DON'T WORRY???!!! ARE YOU F*CKING CRAZY??? We've just now gone beyond worry, surpassed fear.. I'm now in terror mode.
It took me a while to calm down. I telephoned my attorney as instructed. Once again, I had to speak to her assistant. She diligently scribbled down my message. Numbness has set in. Will I have to testify at the bail hearing? How do I face him? What am I going to do if he gets his weapons back? What am I going to do if I'm court ordered to leave the home? So many questions... I wish I had the answers.
The article does not portray me in a negative light, but to have my life out there in print is absolutely devastating. It's embarrassing, humiliating, and daunting. All part of it I suppose, but gives me little peace at this point. The phone calls, emails, txt messages have been coming in fast and furious. Some from friends concerned about me and how I'm taking this public notice of what happened... some from nosey nellies .. and some from "mutual friends" of mine and my husband's, probably probing for information they can pass on to him.
I walked into a local store earlier this morning to get my daily coffee, in my mind telling myself to hold my head high. People stared. There were whispers and a few pointers. I wanted to scream "what have I done wrong???" I was rescued by a friend who came up and gave me a big hug. I was fighting back tears that stung behind my eyes.
I made a phonecall to my friend who runs an advocacy agency for DV called Womancare. We talked for a long time. He gives me strength, hope, and reassurance. Art has been, and continues to be, my rock and one of my main supporters. That man should be nominated for Sainthood! Then the DA's office called, one of the Victim's Advocates. She asked me if I'd seen the paper. I told her no but that everyone is talking about it. She informed me that my husband's attorney has requested a Bail hearing. I asked what for? She advised that he's requesting to have his bail conditions changed. He wants to be able to consume alcohol (currently he's restricted from consumption or possession). He wants his firearms back (currently he's cannot possess, carry, or have access to any firearms). Lastly, he wants the court to order me and our daughter out of the house so he can return to "his" residence (currently he's prohibited from contact with me or contact with the residence). The tears that I had been fighting back all morning flowed freely down my face. My body tensed and I started to panic. I whispered to her, "why does he want his firearms back?" She advised that he's claiming he's looking for another law enforcement job and needs his weapon. For a second I couldn't breath, couldn't swallow, couldn't move. I was frozen in fear. Could they possibly give him back his arsenal of weapons??? She rambled on to say that I needed to be in court for this bail hearing, that I needed to contact my attorney and let her know, and she ended with a quick "don't worry". I felt like screaming DON'T WORRY???!!! ARE YOU F*CKING CRAZY??? We've just now gone beyond worry, surpassed fear.. I'm now in terror mode.
It took me a while to calm down. I telephoned my attorney as instructed. Once again, I had to speak to her assistant. She diligently scribbled down my message. Numbness has set in. Will I have to testify at the bail hearing? How do I face him? What am I going to do if he gets his weapons back? What am I going to do if I'm court ordered to leave the home? So many questions... I wish I had the answers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)