Wednesday, June 14, 2017
Revisiting the night I went to jail
Today in therapy we discussed the night we went to jail. Again. Except, this time I actually described it with real emotion and pain to my therapist. I have made another blog post regarding this night but I didn't go in depth and I didn't allow my readers to feel what I felt that horrible night.
It all started when my son, with bipolar. He started freaking out over his computer. He was getting angry with it and the things it was not doing that he wanted it to do. He wasn't making sense and I was suspicious he hadn't taken his medications that day. He was very animated and manicky. He began to hit his computer with his fists and I told him to go to his room and take a breather. He refused to listen to me. After 3 times of telling him without any response I got up from my chair and went over to him. I put my hand on his hand with a light grip on his hair and pulled his head back to look at me. He flipped out and jumped out of his chair and grabbed me and started running me from room to room with my wrists bent backwards. He was screaming at me to never touch him, ever, and that how dare I touch him! He was getting very violent with me so I yelled to my older son to please call 911. I was concerned for my safety as he had hurt me before. My oldest son called the police and meanwhile my other son is still screaming at me and threatening me. I grabbed an aluminum handled broom and threw it at him as a way to get him to back off. I don't know for sure if the broom hit him or not but he starting screaming that I was a "fucking psychotic bitch" over and over and finally ran out the door to a neighbor's house.
I run over to my neighbors to go get him and he's telling them, again, that I'm a "fucking psychotic bitch." I'm trying to reason with him and he's being totally defiant. Meanwhile the cops show up and my husband is called from work to come home. I spent about 30 minutes talking to the cops, telling them that I don't know what to do with my son anymore and that he is so out of control. They kept suggesting taking him to juvie and getting him in the system. My husband arrives and we talk some more with the police about my son's behavior and how he is getting harder to handle and he has bipolar and is under psychiatric care. The cops then proceed to explain that if we go down the juvie route we will lose all control and access to our son. My husband and I decide that we do not want that to happen. As soon as we stated, "No we do not want our son to go to juvie", the officer then turned to me and said "I'm going to need you to put your hands behind your back." I feel to my knees and my littles started coming out begging Bob to help us. It was the one time he couldn't. The officer then said " Your son has a mark on his side and I need to take you in for child abuse." I was freaking out! I was definitely not a child abuser. I was trying to defend myself from my 6'4 son who was in a bipolar rage. The officer then tells me, " this is just a formality. Your husband can pick you up within the hour." So, I got in the back of the police car, handcuffed and in disbelief. My husband gave the officer my medications with the assurance that they would give them to me at the station.
The door to the police car shuts. The first thing the officer tells me is: "You will not be going home tonight." What?! I felt very tricked and very angry and very afraid. I was devastated and I looked out the police car window and saw my son's face. Total look of satisfaction and smugness. I was so beyond upset at this point. I get to the police station and I am barefoot because they wouldn't let Bob get me my shoes. They paraded me into the jail and all of the other officers start yelling at me and berating me and making fun of my dissociative disorder. They put my in a tiny windowless cell with a toilet and concrete bed. I could not stop crying. I was banging on the door, begging someone to talk to me. The one female officer who finally opened the door proceeded to tell me I was a rotten, disgusting child abuser. I begged her to give me my anxiety meds which she refused. I am very claustrophobic and being in this room was like being in Hell. I was switching like crazy and having panic attacks and was so confused to how I got there.
After being in the cell about 4 hours I was taken for mug shots and then they did a body search on me. I had to strip completely naked and bend over so the officer could check my butt and vagina for drugs. It was the most humiliating experience of my life. I was then given an orange jumpsuit and rubber sandals and sent back to my small cell. After breakfast (hard boiled egg and banana) was slid under my door I started begging the new shift officer to please let me take my medication. I guess she felt sorry for me and called the nurse and they had me go up and take my medicine. I was treated like utter crap and mocked and laughed at, again and again.
My husband showed up and I was able to talk on a phone with a glass wall between us. He told me my bail was set for $10,000 and he was trying to figure out how to get me out. What in the hell? $10,000 for throwing a broom to get away from my son? I started crying hysterically to my husband, begging him to help me and to get me out of there. As soon as I hung up with him they decided to put me in with the general population. I was so afraid. There was a group of women who wanted to kick my ass because I was crying. I was begging the other women in there to help me. I was trying not to cry but I couldn't stop. I hunkered down with my wool blanket under the stairs and prayed I would get out of there. I was watching these women and thinking they would kill me when suddenly an officer arrived and called my name. My bail had been made!
My husband got me out on a signature bond and I ended up going to court 3 times over this stupid incident. It was scary and my husband and I have both said if we would have had money back then we would have sued the Sarpy county sheriff department. There was so much they did that was not right. The thing that stands out the most, though, is how my son looked at me and how he was not really held accountable for what had happened. My husband was so concerned for me that he didn't really discipliine my son for what went down. We found out he had gone 3 days without taking his bipolar medication. I knew something wasn't right that night he was upset. I asked him over and over, "have you been taking your meds?" which was met with defiance and silence.
To this day I have a serious fear of the police. I have friends who are police officers but I am still very afraid of the police. I was treated so poorly and not treated with any compassion that my worst fear is to go through that again. I did absolutely nothing wrong that night yet I was traumatized and victimized by those who were supposed to be helping me. I still have to process through all this. I thought I had already but after today's session I realize I've barely skimmed the surface.