Jail Chronicles, Chapter 4

They relay the message to my savior in the visiting area, but that well has run dry. He’s completely tapped out. My options now are simply

1. Wait for bail which is highly unlikely, like almost impossible.
   
2. Wait to be transported to Lincoln County. Which will still have no effect on my bail amount.
   

Either way? I’m fucked.

And yet? I hold on to hope.

The Co’s are no longer my BFF’s they were a few minutes before. Some of the regulations *must* be enforced. My high heals are traded in for sassy orange rubber sliders. My freedom to roam at will is gone. I’m confined to a holding cell, by myself.

For the first hour I’m OK. I’ve got my book and I am out of sight from all the inmates on their way to and from court. They can’t avoid the temptation to come take a look at me, like a rare exotic animal in a cage. That just pisses me off which only serves to excite them. I end up sitting on the floor against the door so that no one can see me.

Two hours. Waiting. Uncomfortable. Still hoping, believing, that The Preacher Man will come back with the money it takes to set me free. I watch the clock as time speeds away. I’m allowed to walk around again not that court is done for the day, but I take little joy or comfort in the minimal freedom I’m given. I should have enjoyed it.

The Last bunch of inmates to pass through booking were unbelievable. They acted like they hadn’t seen a woman in months. And it’s very possible they hadn’t. They made rude comments which I could easily ignore. But when they mentally undressed me, my skin crawled. Virtual Reality Rape. They could undress me in their minds, and I was helpless to stop them.

Three hours. I’m starting to worry but I can’t let it show. I still have my cell phone with me, so I am able to talk to the girls when they get home from school. I am supposed to be on my way home from work right now. I’m not even close. I tell them I’m going to be a little late even though I am beginning to doubt it. I can’t tell them the truth, it will scare them. I’m scared enough at the thought of them at home alone and me in jail. They have no idea I’m not at work.

Hope is fading. Shift change is coming up soon. The simple freedoms I’ve been granted today are about to run out. I sent a text message “If you can’t save me, please take care of the girls for me.” It was all I could do. It was going to have to be enough. I had to believe it was enough so that I could just focus on getting through the next few hours. They put me in a cold holding cell with a bed (concrete slab) a thin mattress and a blanket. It’s Warren Co jail, not the Hilton. I’m locked in a this room alone. For the first time all day it’s beginning to sink in that I may not be going home tonight. I am, for the first time in my life, alone in the world with nobody to turn to for help and salvation.

I refuse to eat dinner. I’m not *that* hungry. Frankly they don’t care. As long as I’m complacent and quiet, they pay me little attention. I sit huddled in my blanket reading my book. I doze off now and then as much from fatigue and boredom as from self preservation. My stress level is building as hope fades with the evening sun. Every tick of the clock is a tick of the clock longer than I thought I’d be there. Sleep offers a temporary pseudo escape from the reality of the Hell I’m in.

I listen for the phone to ring bringing news of my release with it. It never comes. By 9:00 I start to admit to myself I might actually be spending the night in jail. Something I’ve never done, and something I never thought I’d do. I never thought it would come to this. And yet… here I sit.

I get as comfortable as I can, and try to sleep. Without my medication my mind races. Stress, fear and disbelief keep me wired and awake. The noise of jail night life conspire to make sleep fitful at best.

I drift off to sleep praying Save me God. Save me God. Save me God.

Tomorrow offers new hope.

Jail Chronicles, Chapter 2

For a minute I considered not going. Hell, several times I considered not going. But I knew not going would just make the situation worse. It would compound the problem and double the stress I was already living with. Maybe the knot in my gut was just the money issue.

I got to the courthouse that morning with plenty of time to spare. From the look of things, I was the first person there. I checked the morning docket list posted outside the courtroom. H….Ha…..He…..He….Hu….. uh wait, what? No Hood. I looked again, not there. I read the entire morning docket, no Hood. I checked the afternoon docket. Not there either. I’m not on the docket at all.

I won’t lie. For a minute or two, or even five, I thought “Awesome!! I’m not on the docket! I can leave!” and I almost did. But I thought “I’d better ask someone. What if they missed my name when they typed up the list and I *am* supposed to be here and my name shows up on the judge’s docket. If I missed this court date there would be a warrant issued on the spot. Better to avoid a warrant.

I went to the clerk’s office to check in. “Excuse me, can you help me? I have a court date today and my name does not appear on the docket.” She looked in her computer. She looked on the docket. She asked for my name. She asked again. She went and checked at someone else’s desk. The more she looked, the bigger the knot in my stomach grew. I knew that this was not going to end well. But really, what could I do?

The deputy comes into her office, and me, in a state of denial and pure hopefulness, convince myself that he’s here for an entirely different reason. He’s one of thoseI deputies. You know the ones. The young, the proud, the I-can’t-crack-a-smile-because-I-take-my-job-way-too-seriously kind. He has traded in his sense of humor and his smile for a badge and a gun. Turns out I was too late. A warrant had been issued for my arrest the day before.. Their computer system said my court date was the day before. My papers said today. “Do you have the papers with you?” they asked.

No. Foolishly, I trusted them and the system to do it’s job. “I believed in the competency of your office to keep the dates right. I won’t be making that mistake ever again. “

For once I was trying to do the right thing, do the responsible thing, follow the stupid rules and it bites me in the ass.

And it took a HUGE bite of my ass.