Running Concurrently

It was all so much. SO MUCH.

There is no playbook for this.

Looking back, I am not sure how I functioned day to day. I know I was emotionless, except for anger. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I know friends and family helped. It reminds me of when the twins were babies and people would say, “I don’t know how you do it!” I would reply, “I don’t have any choice.”

Remember there were basically 3 court cases/legal issues running concurrently at this point. I addressed the first in my last post. I wanted John to be charged with a crime, but there was no law in our state to allow this. Our area is one of the darkest places in the world- backwards thinking, lack of cultural sensitivity, and all the patriarchal belief systems. In John’s case, the white middle-age, middle-class man had gotten away with a crime and had no consequences. Not yet anyways.

As for Adam (Case #2), he was getting adjusted to his facility and new therapist. We had weekly Skype calls to complete family therapy. Overall, everyone was happy with the care he was getting (including Adam), and we loved his therapist. The program was designed specifically for youth who struggle with the types of things Adam did. So, I talked to him at least once a week. I sent letters. My mom sent down gifts for him. I scheduled a few visits to travel to see him. The facility was nearly 5 hours away and required an overnight stay if I was going. Hotel cost and gas cost was a bit overwhelming for me, since I was now paying for legal fees and medical bills that I was not expecting. I still made plans to visit.

Our first scheduled visit got cancelled due to a heavy snowstorm with ice that fell across our state. The second visit got cancelled when I had sudden appendicitis. Another third visit got canceled when I had complications from surgery that prevented me from even being able to walk. My parents had gone down to visit once in my place by this point. I finally got to go after about 3 months. Remember that I also had 3 other busy children who had events, performances, and sicknesses of their own through this time. And since the kids went to John’s only every other weekend, my chances of going were also reduced by half. I wanted to visit, and I missed Adam. Lots of life issues got in the way- and I let Adam know every single time what they were. He understood and was always happy to talk to me at weekly therapy. Our visit went wonderfully as well, with both of us feeling a relief and level of comfort with each other that we hadn’t had in years.

As for the case against Adam, I stayed in contact with our local sheriff’s department until they turned it over to the Juvenile Prosecutor’s office.  Weeks would go by, and I would hear nothing. I called for updates every two weeks or so, and just kept getting told “we are understaffed, and we will get to it soon.” Months went by. Finally, 5 months after the incident, I got a call from the prosecutor. She asked for a meeting with me and with my daughter. I gladly arranged to visit with her.

I will call the prosecutor Shauna. Shauna seemed knowledgeable and confident. I gave all the details of the issues leading to the crisis incident in addition to the story of what I discovered. Then Shauna met with Honey alone. At the end, I questioned if all the juvenile cases take this long to process. Shauna explained that our county’s court is overwhelmed, and it takes a while to get a date for a hearing. But also, she mentioned hesitantly, Adam’s case file had gotten lost. The Sheriff’s office claimed they had sent it to the juvenile office, but the juvenile office never got it. If I hadn’t been calling to check, they might have completely missed it.

I had been researching options for Adam beyond his facility care. My insurance was paying the full cost of his stay, but I was warned every few weeks that at any point, they would decide he was “done” with treatment and request his discharge. As a person who had never been through anything remotely like this, I had no idea what we would do next. The juvenile office had mentioned that Adam might be sent to a state facility under the care of the Division of Youth Services. I began researching what this might mean.

The website for our state’s DYS programs was a glowing, positive portrait of the care that youth who’ve struggled get in residential programs. To quote directly from their site: “Each residential program includes Individual and Group Therapy, Life Skills Training, Community Service, Family Engagement and Treatment Opportunities, and Education Services.” They had group homes available. They had moderately structured facilities to allow growth in independence. I googled till my fingers were tired. All in all, that seemed like the best option- the cost would be covered, and Adam could get continued care.

I was naïve enough to believe DYS was a wonderful, safe, happy way for Adam to continue to grow. I told Shauna that I wanted this for my son. He couldn’t just come home and reintegrate into our family, and he needed more treatment than I had found for him.

Adam was given a public defender for his upcoming hearing. Or rather, I stated I wanted him to have a public defender. Costs for everything were already drowning me, and I couldn’t imagine adding a second lawyer to the mix. I signed a form saying I couldn’t pay. I was assured this was very normal and they set us up with someone. I’ll call her Ann. I called to speak to Ann to give her all of Adam’s contact info and such, and was told- very sternly- that Ann was not the lawyer for the parents, but rather, for the juvenile. I told them I understood, but she would have no way to know even where he was without the info. I just asked if I could leave my contact info, and they were reluctant to take it. Message received: I don’t get to talk much to Ann.

After some other legal hoops and many, many discussions with Adam and his therapist, Adam had decided to admit to the charges and take whatever his penalty was. It was going to cost us time and money every time we had to get Adam home for court, and I was hoping to get it all settled quickly. Despite the Sheriff’s office classifying Adam’s offense as a Class B Felony, Adam was charged with the lower Class D Felony. He planned to admit to the charges at the first hearing. After months and months and months of waiting, he was finally scheduled to be in court 7 months after the crime.

I had been calling to make sure we had everything we needed. At one point, the juvenile office had requested a letter from his current therapist on his progress in his program. I requested that and it was sent. I had already been through enough situations in our custody case to know you get one precious time to present things and if you’re not ready, the hearing would be rescheduled. There were forms Adam would need to sign to be prepared for his “sentencing,” so I arranged for that to happen the same day as the hearing. John was going to drive down and pick Adam up, let him stay with him while I kept the other kids, and I would arrange a time for Adam to come to my house while the kids were away. Everything was ready. Note that I had made all the arrangements, and all John did was offer to chauffeur.

The day arrived. My parents came to court, along with John and his parents. I hugged Adam warmly. He had met with Ann earlier in the day, and I asked if anything had changed with the plan. He said no- it was all set. I had no idea what to expect. I had never been involved with a “criminal” court case before. *Please note the emotional trauma of even having to walk into a courthouse where both the criminal and the victim are your children.* I was not at all prepared for what I would feel that day. Honey would not be in court, but the prosecutor was supposed to represent her interests. I had made the decision to sit on the side of the prosecution and had previously spoken with Adam in person about that. I told him that his sister had no one to speak for her, and Adam had Ann and his dad. He understood.

Again, there is no playbook for this. All I could do was make the best decisions I could from moment to moment and situation to situation.

No one was allowed in the courtroom except parents, juvenile officers, lawyers, and the juvenile. Everyone else waited outside closed doors.

The hearing began. Shauna stated the cold, hard facts- but immediately my head began to spin. She stated that Honey had been the victim about “5 or 6 times”- “that’s not right,” I thought. Where did she get that? The only info Honey had said to me was that it happened “more times than I could count.” She said a few more things and then Ann talked. There was something said about the charges, and she needed more time with Adam. I think I was somewhere in the stratosphere by now. I didn’t understand what was happening. It was all over in 5 minutes.

We began to leave the courtroom, and I was reeling. Shauna immediately pulled me aside in the hallway, as Adam and John went out to the waiting area. She asked if I understood, and I assured her I did NOT. She told me, “Ann is wanting us to drop the charges or at least lower them to a misdemeanor. This means that if we want to proceed, we will have to have a trial, which will include Honey coming into the courtroom to state what happened. All of this will take months and months.” I was LIVID. How had this happened? Shauna said that Ann felt that Adam was being misunderstood and she needed more time to construct his side of things. I told her, “Adam planned to admit to the charges- what else does she need???” I wanted to fall straight to the ground; I was so shocked and upset.

When I came out to the waiting area, Adam was surrounded by John and his parents. They were already laughing together and making plans for going out to eat. My mom rushed to me and said, “What is going on?” I said, “He basically pled not guilty and now there might be a trial.” I guess I was speaking loudly because all the others stopped laughing and looked at me across the room. I decided to address them- specifically Adam. I said, “I can’t believe you are doing this. You lied to me. I can’t believe you are going to make your sister testify against you.” Then I paused. I said, “You don’t need to worry about coming to my house. I can’t even talk to you right now.”

Adam began to cry, and John shouted, “He just did what his attorney told him to do.” I shouted back, “I don’t care! He told me a lie and he is lying now!” I turned to my parents who were very, very confused and upset. My mom tried to calm me down but there was no use. I said, “We have to get out of here.” I looked over at Adam again, who was getting hugs from people, and I felt a pang of sorrow. I walked over to him, right in the middle of all the people who were now behaving like Adam was the victim, and I hugged him. I said, “I’m sorry. This is an awful situation. I can’t be with you right now because I am angry. I will talk to you soon.” I began walking down the stairs and thought my parents would follow. I realized they weren’t following- they had gone to Adam too. In the stairwell, I saw one of the juvenile office staff who I had worked with, and said, “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe we have to go through all of this. It is so unfair to Honey.” She agreed and said she didn’t know why they always had to drag things out. During this exchange, I noticed that Ann was standing close by and heard me. We did not make eye contact, and I did not say anything to her. She looked uncomfortable but not upset.

My parents joined me in the stairwell and were still confused and upset, but now they were upset with me. My mom said loudly, “He is your child too!” and my dad said, “We need to get outside.” I said, “I know all that!”  We rushed out and I just told them a quick goodbye. I know myself too well to know I can’t calm down fast enough to be logical and kind, so I just fled. It also hurt that I felt like I had no one on my side in that moment. I hadn’t asked any of my other safe people to be there that day, and I was alone in my devastation.

I immediately called my dear friend and asked if I could come over. I called another friend to ask if she could keep the younger three kids after school so I could deal with things. I went to my friend’s house and verbally vomited it all over her. She hugged me and let me cry. She was amazing as always. I rejected calls from everyone else and silenced my phone.

When I finally got home, I sent another friend to pick up pizza as the younger three were dropped off. I hugged them and told them we would go to bed early.

I went to my room, laid down on the bed, and collapsed.

I awoke the next morning with a high fever, difficulty breathing, and covered in what I thought were hives all over my body. It ended up being COVID, accompanied by very painful Shingles. I was more than down for the count- I was mentally, emotionally, and physically drained of life.

The body keeps the score, and my body was reporting that the scoreboard showed a total defeat.