15 years ago if you asked me about our judicial system, I would have told you that I thought it was a fair and just process. I didn't have any complaints at that time. How could I, the most I knew was what I learned in our school books and from the news. Well, that all changed in the summer of 1999, when my then fiance, now husband got himself into the worse trouble yet.
I came home to find that my fiance had run off because of an incident at my parents house. Everyone was crying and was upset. The police were there with their dogs searching for him. I gave them a sweatshirt so they could try to track him down. It was like something you see in a movie. It ended up that they couldn't find him because when he crossed over a river that ran near our house, the dogs lost his scent. I think I remember him telling me how he hid and watched the police search for him. He then spent the night walking to a place that we both hung out at time to time when we wanted someplace private and quiet to go to. I was there, not waiting for him, but had gone there trying to sort out my thoughts when he showed up.
We talked things out, and made a decision to try and work things out for the baby's sake. We decided that since his days being free were numbered we would spend a couple of last days together. So I called out from work and we went to the Catskills. On the way, we recorded stories and notes on a tape recorder for our unborn child, telling him or her how much we loved them and how sorry we were for getting ourselves into such a mess. I think I still have the tapes somewhere. We tried to make the best out of the last few days, a few memories to last us through whatever was in store. In then end, he asked me to drop him off and let him go camping for one week and then he would turn himself in. He wanted to spend some time getting up his courage and doing some soul searching. So I did, not knowing it would be the last time I saw him as a free man for a very long time.
A few days later the police came to where I was living asking questions, trying to track him down. They told me, what I know now as police BS," it's okay, he won't be in much trouble, we just need to have him turn himself in, this case will amount to nothing, maybe a year in jail. It wasn't that major." So even though I told them he was going to turn himself in, I didn't want to lie to the police about where he was, so I told them about where I dropped him off and that I would pick him up and have him turn himself in.
I don't know how things exactly went down on the day I drove up there to pick him up. I imagine they followed me and then phoned ahead to the local law enforcement so someone would be there when he came off of the mountain. This was before cellphones were popular so we didn't have a way to communicate. I know that when I got there, I saw his face in the police cruiser as they drove away. He was so sad looking, it broke my heart once again.
He was taken to a local police station and then eventually handed over to the originating state police. Took about a week or so for all this to to take place. I don't remember if he was able to make phone calls on a regular basis from where he was at. I do remember going back to pick up some of his belongings.
At some point he talked me into obtaining a lawyer for him. He didn't want a public defender because apparently paid lawyers are supposed to be so much better. I don't know about that. Maybe if you are rich, they do more for you. It certainly didn't appear to help in our case. I eventually found a lawyer I could afford. I met with him and told him the story. I remember little bells going off in my head, as he was saying he would take the case, but that he had a daughter... When he asked me if I thought he was guilty, I said of course, why would so and so lie? I guess that sealed his fate there as far as the lawyer was concerned. The case was done and over with, there would be no sense in going to trial where he would be found guilty.
At this point in my life, whether he was guilty or not wasn't important. What was important was that, he be punished appropriately and that everyone get some type of help. I really thought our justice system cared and wanted to stop the cycle of abuse. I didn't realize at that time that its a revolving door and that those who enter it are the bread and butter for the state. Now I feel that our judicial system and correctional system is not about helping people, but about making money, as well as creating jobs and services.
I should have listened to the alarms going off in my head as I handed that lawyer my hard earned money. He wasn't going to be objective enough to help. I have problem of saying No...so I didn't say anything but left with a heavy heart feeling that I had made a mistake. I don't think I ever really saw him again. We spoke once on the phone when he finally called me back to scold me for sending him a letter complaining about his service and how they were doing very little to help us. He sent another lawyer in his place to all the court hearings. Ironically, this associate lawyer eventually would have his own legal problems because he would represent you for a reduce price if you would have sex with him. I found this out when the local public defender's office referred me to him because we don't qualify for legal assistance, since we are married and I make too much money, but not enough to pay for a lawyer. I googled the lawyers name and surprise, surprise look at what you find. Ha, Ha, Ha, joke is on us. We wouldn't hire him if he was the last lawyer on earth, after what happened. We would rather just go to court on our own,
I went to all the court hearings, sat on those hard seats, my nerves on edge, my heart hurting to see him shackled up, wearing those orange jumpsuits that made me cringe. I think the shackles are the worse thing to see. When the D.A and the lawyer reached an agreement, and he decided to plead guilty. (I don't remember what the original plea deal was anymore) My dad and I were allowed to say something on his behalf which we did. I wonder to this day, if that was a mistake and did more harm than good. The D.A made a comment about it" all being a pipe dream". Then the judge threw out the plea agreement and made up his own sentence, 10 years, suspended after 4 with 30 years probation. 30 years probation? That's a sure sentence to go back to jail, considering that any infraction at all, even jaywalking could land you back behind the walls. I think that's when I began to truly see that the court system does what it wants.
The one thing I asked our lawyer to do, was that the court system give us permission to be a family again when he got out. That was my main concern. Let him come home to us, I know he can be a good father and husband. So he got that much for us. Little did I know that it was just words on paper.
As far as I know, the victim advocate never got counseling for the victim. Never requested any family counseling even though this was a crime that affected everyone in our family. This I think is a big mistake because so often sex crimes are done by a family or friend and the ripple effect is felt by many. Personally, I don't think they care. The legal system seems to be a game and a bunch of power plays. Its not about if you are innocent or guilty but can you outwit your opposition?
He was remanded back to DOC, and for the next 4 years, we went about our lives. He learned to live behind walls, I learned how to be a mother and support our child without him home with us. Life keeps moving on. For those of you, who love someone behind the walls, you probably know what its like for the days to drag on and on. You try to stay busy so you are not thinking about how lonely you are, but the loneliness is there, sort of a black cloud that is just there, lingering. Even when you have beautiful, wonderful days, they are not completely perfect because the one you love is away. We are in a prison as much as the one we love. I lived each day so I could go to bed and be done with that day. Each finished day, meant he was one day closer to coming home.
During his time incarcerated, we tried to get help, like having him go to a prison that offered counseling for sex offenders. Do you think that happened? Nooo. I even hired a sentence specialist. He was nice to talk with and very earnest at what he did, but again nothing helped. Eventually he was released and sent back to NY to finish out his time for the DUI that he got. The one, that we decided to leave rehab and just live on the lam? Yep, the law never forgets.
It seemed like everything we tried to do, just backfired. When he was finally released from NY and we were sure we could start our lives over again,..we got more bad news. His probation officer was not going to let him come home and live with us. That guy was a real piece of work. In fact, he put some vague limits on how often we were allowed to be together. So like I said earlier, it doesn't matter what the judge says, when you are on probation, the probation officer rules, he is your god, and judge. Oh my God. Would this nightmare never end? All we wanted to do was be a family. By this time we had gotten married while he was in jail.
So during the next 2 years that he was free, he spent his time living in motels, and working for day labor jobs. We would get together here and there when we could, but he was always afraid of spending too much time with us and that they would send him back to jail. We spent enough alone time to get pregnant and have our second daughter together. He was able to be there for her birth, something he missed with our first daughter.
Some days it seemed like he was happier in jail. Many times before he had to meet with his p.o, he would complain of chest pain because he was so anxious. Eventually, he started using crack again and was sent back to jail. This time he decided to finish out his time because he knew that he would never make it with 30 years probation. So that is what he did.
When he came home this last time, things were much better, he didn't have probation hanging over his head. The only thing he had to worry about was the rso registry for another few more years., which in its self is a whole other thing.
We decided to move to NY to be closer to my parents and because we thought we had a better chance of making a goal of our dream of a self supporting farm that also offered second chances to those whose lives had taken a wrong turn. Land is cheaper out where my parents live, much so than we are presently. I may have mentioned this in one of the other blogs, but when you are on the registry, you have to be careful about where you move to, because your time on the registry may start all over again or they may tack more time than what you had originally. Some states have told me that even if you are off the registry in the originating state, they will make you register there. In our experience we were not told this until we had already moved up there and it was too late to move back. It's not like we had a lot of money to work with, only what little bit I could save up from working. As many people who have been in the system can attest to, finding work when you have a criminal record can be exceedingly difficult, especially if your are trying to be a law abiding citizen.
This extra 20 years of being on the registry ate at my husband. He felt lied to and tricked. Had he been told upfront what to expect, he wouldn't have moved. I have to wonder what part this played in his relapse. Maybe nothing or maybe its part of the trigger. I don't have the answers to that question and maybe never will.
What I do know is that the justice system has not been exactly fair. There is not a lot of support out there for family of those who are incarcerated. There is even less help and more stigma if you are a sex offender or family member of a sex offender. It seems that killing someone has less of a stigma, which I don't get, because when you kill someone that person is gone forever. There is no chance of life at all, but that's just me. There is a lot I just don't get.
Because of this experience, I feel I have lost my faith in our justice system. I no longer believe that I can make a difference and change what I see as unfair or broken our country. I have trouble believing that the leaders of our country want to do what's right. They want votes so they can stay in office and enjoy all the perks and power that come from their position. I firmly believe as long as our judicial system's bottom line is about money, we will never really see any progress or help for those caught up in its web. I also firmly believe that for real change to happen, it has to start at the bottom. It has to start with those of us who have been affected and who need and want change to happen. We have to talk, share our stories and then unite for a common cause, just as the forefathers this country did a great many years ago.
I came home to find that my fiance had run off because of an incident at my parents house. Everyone was crying and was upset. The police were there with their dogs searching for him. I gave them a sweatshirt so they could try to track him down. It was like something you see in a movie. It ended up that they couldn't find him because when he crossed over a river that ran near our house, the dogs lost his scent. I think I remember him telling me how he hid and watched the police search for him. He then spent the night walking to a place that we both hung out at time to time when we wanted someplace private and quiet to go to. I was there, not waiting for him, but had gone there trying to sort out my thoughts when he showed up.
We talked things out, and made a decision to try and work things out for the baby's sake. We decided that since his days being free were numbered we would spend a couple of last days together. So I called out from work and we went to the Catskills. On the way, we recorded stories and notes on a tape recorder for our unborn child, telling him or her how much we loved them and how sorry we were for getting ourselves into such a mess. I think I still have the tapes somewhere. We tried to make the best out of the last few days, a few memories to last us through whatever was in store. In then end, he asked me to drop him off and let him go camping for one week and then he would turn himself in. He wanted to spend some time getting up his courage and doing some soul searching. So I did, not knowing it would be the last time I saw him as a free man for a very long time.
A few days later the police came to where I was living asking questions, trying to track him down. They told me, what I know now as police BS," it's okay, he won't be in much trouble, we just need to have him turn himself in, this case will amount to nothing, maybe a year in jail. It wasn't that major." So even though I told them he was going to turn himself in, I didn't want to lie to the police about where he was, so I told them about where I dropped him off and that I would pick him up and have him turn himself in.
I don't know how things exactly went down on the day I drove up there to pick him up. I imagine they followed me and then phoned ahead to the local law enforcement so someone would be there when he came off of the mountain. This was before cellphones were popular so we didn't have a way to communicate. I know that when I got there, I saw his face in the police cruiser as they drove away. He was so sad looking, it broke my heart once again.
He was taken to a local police station and then eventually handed over to the originating state police. Took about a week or so for all this to to take place. I don't remember if he was able to make phone calls on a regular basis from where he was at. I do remember going back to pick up some of his belongings.
At some point he talked me into obtaining a lawyer for him. He didn't want a public defender because apparently paid lawyers are supposed to be so much better. I don't know about that. Maybe if you are rich, they do more for you. It certainly didn't appear to help in our case. I eventually found a lawyer I could afford. I met with him and told him the story. I remember little bells going off in my head, as he was saying he would take the case, but that he had a daughter... When he asked me if I thought he was guilty, I said of course, why would so and so lie? I guess that sealed his fate there as far as the lawyer was concerned. The case was done and over with, there would be no sense in going to trial where he would be found guilty.
At this point in my life, whether he was guilty or not wasn't important. What was important was that, he be punished appropriately and that everyone get some type of help. I really thought our justice system cared and wanted to stop the cycle of abuse. I didn't realize at that time that its a revolving door and that those who enter it are the bread and butter for the state. Now I feel that our judicial system and correctional system is not about helping people, but about making money, as well as creating jobs and services.
I should have listened to the alarms going off in my head as I handed that lawyer my hard earned money. He wasn't going to be objective enough to help. I have problem of saying No...so I didn't say anything but left with a heavy heart feeling that I had made a mistake. I don't think I ever really saw him again. We spoke once on the phone when he finally called me back to scold me for sending him a letter complaining about his service and how they were doing very little to help us. He sent another lawyer in his place to all the court hearings. Ironically, this associate lawyer eventually would have his own legal problems because he would represent you for a reduce price if you would have sex with him. I found this out when the local public defender's office referred me to him because we don't qualify for legal assistance, since we are married and I make too much money, but not enough to pay for a lawyer. I googled the lawyers name and surprise, surprise look at what you find. Ha, Ha, Ha, joke is on us. We wouldn't hire him if he was the last lawyer on earth, after what happened. We would rather just go to court on our own,
I went to all the court hearings, sat on those hard seats, my nerves on edge, my heart hurting to see him shackled up, wearing those orange jumpsuits that made me cringe. I think the shackles are the worse thing to see. When the D.A and the lawyer reached an agreement, and he decided to plead guilty. (I don't remember what the original plea deal was anymore) My dad and I were allowed to say something on his behalf which we did. I wonder to this day, if that was a mistake and did more harm than good. The D.A made a comment about it" all being a pipe dream". Then the judge threw out the plea agreement and made up his own sentence, 10 years, suspended after 4 with 30 years probation. 30 years probation? That's a sure sentence to go back to jail, considering that any infraction at all, even jaywalking could land you back behind the walls. I think that's when I began to truly see that the court system does what it wants.
The one thing I asked our lawyer to do, was that the court system give us permission to be a family again when he got out. That was my main concern. Let him come home to us, I know he can be a good father and husband. So he got that much for us. Little did I know that it was just words on paper.
As far as I know, the victim advocate never got counseling for the victim. Never requested any family counseling even though this was a crime that affected everyone in our family. This I think is a big mistake because so often sex crimes are done by a family or friend and the ripple effect is felt by many. Personally, I don't think they care. The legal system seems to be a game and a bunch of power plays. Its not about if you are innocent or guilty but can you outwit your opposition?
He was remanded back to DOC, and for the next 4 years, we went about our lives. He learned to live behind walls, I learned how to be a mother and support our child without him home with us. Life keeps moving on. For those of you, who love someone behind the walls, you probably know what its like for the days to drag on and on. You try to stay busy so you are not thinking about how lonely you are, but the loneliness is there, sort of a black cloud that is just there, lingering. Even when you have beautiful, wonderful days, they are not completely perfect because the one you love is away. We are in a prison as much as the one we love. I lived each day so I could go to bed and be done with that day. Each finished day, meant he was one day closer to coming home.
During his time incarcerated, we tried to get help, like having him go to a prison that offered counseling for sex offenders. Do you think that happened? Nooo. I even hired a sentence specialist. He was nice to talk with and very earnest at what he did, but again nothing helped. Eventually he was released and sent back to NY to finish out his time for the DUI that he got. The one, that we decided to leave rehab and just live on the lam? Yep, the law never forgets.
It seemed like everything we tried to do, just backfired. When he was finally released from NY and we were sure we could start our lives over again,..we got more bad news. His probation officer was not going to let him come home and live with us. That guy was a real piece of work. In fact, he put some vague limits on how often we were allowed to be together. So like I said earlier, it doesn't matter what the judge says, when you are on probation, the probation officer rules, he is your god, and judge. Oh my God. Would this nightmare never end? All we wanted to do was be a family. By this time we had gotten married while he was in jail.
So during the next 2 years that he was free, he spent his time living in motels, and working for day labor jobs. We would get together here and there when we could, but he was always afraid of spending too much time with us and that they would send him back to jail. We spent enough alone time to get pregnant and have our second daughter together. He was able to be there for her birth, something he missed with our first daughter.
Some days it seemed like he was happier in jail. Many times before he had to meet with his p.o, he would complain of chest pain because he was so anxious. Eventually, he started using crack again and was sent back to jail. This time he decided to finish out his time because he knew that he would never make it with 30 years probation. So that is what he did.
When he came home this last time, things were much better, he didn't have probation hanging over his head. The only thing he had to worry about was the rso registry for another few more years., which in its self is a whole other thing.
We decided to move to NY to be closer to my parents and because we thought we had a better chance of making a goal of our dream of a self supporting farm that also offered second chances to those whose lives had taken a wrong turn. Land is cheaper out where my parents live, much so than we are presently. I may have mentioned this in one of the other blogs, but when you are on the registry, you have to be careful about where you move to, because your time on the registry may start all over again or they may tack more time than what you had originally. Some states have told me that even if you are off the registry in the originating state, they will make you register there. In our experience we were not told this until we had already moved up there and it was too late to move back. It's not like we had a lot of money to work with, only what little bit I could save up from working. As many people who have been in the system can attest to, finding work when you have a criminal record can be exceedingly difficult, especially if your are trying to be a law abiding citizen.
This extra 20 years of being on the registry ate at my husband. He felt lied to and tricked. Had he been told upfront what to expect, he wouldn't have moved. I have to wonder what part this played in his relapse. Maybe nothing or maybe its part of the trigger. I don't have the answers to that question and maybe never will.
What I do know is that the justice system has not been exactly fair. There is not a lot of support out there for family of those who are incarcerated. There is even less help and more stigma if you are a sex offender or family member of a sex offender. It seems that killing someone has less of a stigma, which I don't get, because when you kill someone that person is gone forever. There is no chance of life at all, but that's just me. There is a lot I just don't get.
Because of this experience, I feel I have lost my faith in our justice system. I no longer believe that I can make a difference and change what I see as unfair or broken our country. I have trouble believing that the leaders of our country want to do what's right. They want votes so they can stay in office and enjoy all the perks and power that come from their position. I firmly believe as long as our judicial system's bottom line is about money, we will never really see any progress or help for those caught up in its web. I also firmly believe that for real change to happen, it has to start at the bottom. It has to start with those of us who have been affected and who need and want change to happen. We have to talk, share our stories and then unite for a common cause, just as the forefathers this country did a great many years ago.
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