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."
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