The Middle
The weekend was normal for us, as normal as it could be.
Many tears. If I remember correctly, we did go to church, where many people
offered their condolences. It was thoughtful of them, and I know that they all
meant well, but no words could change what had happened, nothing could bring
our baby girl back, but still, it was very thoughtful of them. We all comforted
each other as best as we could, it was all we could do at this point.
Life went even more askew for us the next day. Monday,
September 20, 1999, is another day that will forever be burned into my brain.
This was the day that I was arrested. I had got up as I normally had every day;
I ate some breakfast and had gone into the bedroom to get my clothes to take a
shower. There was a knock at the door. Someone called for me, I cannot remember
if it was my mom, or dad, or Beth, but someone called me and said that the
police were back at the door and wanted to talk to me again. Even now, I am
filled with anxiety writing about this, the feeling of that day and the emotion
tied with it is so strong that it threatens to overwhelm me.
The officer at the door told me that he needed to take me
downtown, as I had been positively identified as the perpetrator of a rape in
New Bedford, MA, and they had been waiting for a Governor's Warrant from the
State of MA to arrest me as a fugitive from justice. They did not tell me who I
was suspected of raping, my mind raced, I had never done anything like this,
and I couldn't wrap my head around it. I was trying to think of who could accuse
me of such a thing. I had never said a mean word to anyone, let alone hurt
anyone, not deliberately. I explained to the officer that I did not understand
what was going on, and asked if I could take a shower before I went with him,
as I had just been about to do that. He said that would be fine. I showered and
got dressed. They sent additional officers to assist, since it had been a long
time since he had been at the door. The officer was gracious enough to not put
me in handcuffs in front of my three-year-old son. I went with him again
thinking that there must be some mistake and that this would all be cleared up
quickly. I was completely wrong. The journey that lay ahead of me and of us as
a family would take over ten years to resolve.
I was taken downtown and booked. Treated like a criminal,
which in the minds of the officers, I was. I was kept in a separate unit, it
was explained to me that I was accused of the worst imaginable crime, rape of a
child. I was told who the alleged victim was, the daughter of my stepdad’s
brother's stepson. This was inconceivable to me. I had a child of my own; I
could never hurt a child. To me, based on how I was brought up on the Christian
faith, this was the worst thing that a person could do. The thought made me
cringe. I called home to try to find out what was being done to get this
resolved; my family had contacted a friend, an attorney who was formerly an
assistant DA. He outlined what would happen next, that I would go before a
judge or magistrate and I had the choice to either waive extradition (which I
did) and go back to face charges voluntarily (in custody, of course) or fight
extradition. To me, it made no sense to fight it, as I was innocent, and in my
mind, I still thought and believed that this would be resolved quickly.
I met with an attorney that was appointed to me for a
very brief time before we went up to see the judge, he was just about useless,
I waived extradition, and was told that I would be held until Massachusetts
could send someone out to get me. I was held for about two weeks, although it
seemed like it was a lot longer. During this time, I was treated just as if you
would expect someone accused of what I had been accused of to be treated. I was
kept separately from others, except those that would not harm me, but they
still had access to my clothing when I needed it to be washed. One time, I had
sent my underpants to be washed, and they came back so bleached that it burned
my skin. The phones were another issue. I had no connection to the outside
world, and the phones were only on in the unit I was in for a brief period. I
submitted what is known as a "Ticket" to try to get some assistance
with the phones and other things and was actually threatened by a guard to be
put up in the General Population. I was petrified of this. I had heard stories
of what they do to people accused of the crime I was accused of there. I did
get some visitors; my dad came up to see me with my wife and my son. My wife
had told my son that I was at work. I remember clearly him saying, "Dad, I
like your work uniform". He did not know, could not know what was really
happening. When I think of him saying that now, it breaks my heart.
After about two weeks, MA got around to sending someone
out to "collect" me. A state trooper and the "investigator"
who was investigating the case. He was a real piece of work. He kept badgering
me to try to get information from me. I did not have anything to give him. At
one point, I told him that I was not going to talk to him about it at all. He
said, "It's a long trip, you don't want to talk at all?" I said I
would talk about anything you want, except this case; you want to talk about
the patriots, fine, leave me alone about this. He did not. At one point, he said
that he thought I was trying to pin this on my brother. I never said any such
thing to the man. I merely said that I was never involved in babysitting this
child; in fact, I had almost no exposure, ever to the family.
We sat in the back of the plane, me with cuffs and
shackles on. I can only imagine what other passengers must have thought. The
State trooper said that if I wanted, I could use his jacket to cover the
handcuffs. I said, I do not have anything to hide, or anything to be ashamed
of, I am innocent and refused his offer. We arrived in Rhode Island at TF Green
airport late in the evening of what had to be the 30th of September. I was
placed in the oldest working jail in the country, Ash Street Jail in New
Bedford, MA. Again, I was treated horrendously. They took my shoelaces; they
took my glasses, my belt. One of the guards again threatened me and kept
calling me a pedophile. I maintained my innocence, which only made him madder.
I was booked there and told that I would be going up to court in Attleboro
District Court the next day. I was allowed one brief phone call, in which I let
my parents know that I was ok, and asked that they let my wife and other family
know, and that I would be in court in Attleboro the next day, that they should
bring bail money and they told me that our friend, the former DA would be
handling my arraignment.
Morning came, not soon enough, and in actuality, this was the beginning of the
darkest night of our lives. A night that lasted 10 years in the legal system
and continues now as my family and I battle the mental illness that was
triggered through this entire trauma. In the morning, I was given back my
glasses, which had conveniently "broken all by themselves" or, they
had been broken when I gave them to the guard (SMDH). I was transported in one
of the most comfortable vehicles I have ever had the privilege to ride in my
entire life, more comfortable than any limousine you can imagine... There were
these wooden benches, which were not really fastened down to anything, and they
were in a Metal van, there were three sections in the back of this van. Divided
by steel grating dividers. Did I mention that I was shackled by a chain that
started between the handcuffs I was wearing, went down slightly, around my
waist, and then a longer chain which was chained to my leg irons. My head hit
the roof with every bump we went over, anyone who has ever driven in
Massachusetts, will tell you, there is no such thing as a road without
potholes. About an hour or so later, I was in the holding cell in the
courthouse, awaiting my arraignment.
My Attorney that was managing my arraignment was able to come down and meet
with me briefly before the arraignment began. He explained to me that I was to
utter two words only during the arraignment, Not Guilty. Anyone who knows me
knows that I am a nervous talker. I have always been for as long as I can
remember, they also know that I am a staunch believer in the truth, and it was
unfathomable to comprehend that I was accused of these crimes...It was very
hard for me to simply say Not Guilty and not elaborate, but by the grace of God,
I did just that.
I was granted bail at $5000 cash, or $50,000 surety. I also had to report
weekly to a probation officer as a condition of my bail, as I was considered a
flight risk (even though I grew up here, and had long standing roots in the
community, and my family was here). I would have to imagine it is because my
wife and son were not here yet, as well as the seriousness of the crime of
which I was accused. Nevertheless, I was innocent and was going to do whatever
it took to prove that. My grandmother posted bail for me, and I was released
that afternoon after what seemed like hours and hours of paperwork. The next
step in the journey for me was to find work and get my wife and son out here.
The next step in the legal process was for the matter to go before a Grand Jury
for indictment, or a direct indictment, a Grand Jury has a preliminary hearing
to decide two things: a) has a crime been committed and b) could this person
have done it. A direct indictment is one in which the case is sent directly to
trial before a preliminary inquiry is completed, or when the accused has been
discharged by a preliminary inquiry.
My case went before a Grand Jury. The Grand Jury found that there was enough
evidence to meet standard a, and that I could have committed the crime based on
the evidence that was provided to them at the time (this information was
incomplete, as I had military records which would have shown that I did not
really have an opportunity to commit this crime or any other, but I didn't have
easy access to them as I had thrown away my hard copies, and had to obtain new
copies). My case would be moved up to Superior Court.
I found a job at the McDonalds where I had worked before moving to Iowa. The
same woman owned it that had owned it when I worked there previously. I met
with her, and explained the situation, she couldn't believe it and said
immediately that she would start me back to work as a shift manager, and she
would be flexible to meet my new schedule with court appearances and probation
and such, which was a real blessing. I am profoundly grateful to her for this.
It wasn't the best job in the world, and was a job I thought I had left long
behind, but I had to support my family.
This was a truly trying time for us, me being back in MA (I truly felt unable
to mourn since I had been ripped out of the situation completely), my wife
still mourning the loss of our daughter and ill with some sort of respiratory
illness. My son was ill with a respiratory illness, wondering where his dad had
gone, mourning and grieving for his lost sister (as much as a 3 year old is
able to understand what had happened. Separated through no choice or fault of
our own. My wife had to apply for public assistance to be able to pay the rent
and eat, meanwhile, I was sending every penny I made that I didn't need to live
off of back to her, and the state was going to make me pay child support back
to them since I was out of the home and they were receiving cash benefits. Did
you get that? I was out of the home, involuntarily, by the state of MA being
prosecuted for a crime I didn't commit and my family was forced to rely on
public assistance to survive, me sending every penny I could to provide for
them, and now Iowa was going after me for child support.
Given all of the recent events, I began to get physically ill; I also was
suffering depression and severe anxiety. I was diagnosed with PTSD and
subsequently treated with Anti-Depressants and Anti-Anxiety medications. I ran
the gamut of available Anti-Depressants available at the time, and found some
that made things a little better, but not much. I needed my wife and son, and I
needed this nightmare to end. My in-laws made arrangements for our stuff to go
into storage (most of it) and my sister and her then boyfriend moved into our
house in Iowa. Beth and DJ came out to live with my family and me. My brother
and sister in law and their son moved to an apartment in Foxboro, to make room
for my family. So now, there were eight of us living in a 2.5 bedroom
apartment. You talk about cramped. It was insane. My family God love them is
extremely loud (Washburn/Groom/Brophy genes, what can I say), and it was loud,
and crowded. Too much. We began looking for a place of our own after just a
short while.
We found a place about a mile or so from where my parents were living. A two
bedroom that was nice. Our own home again. Beth made plans to go back to Iowa
with Derek so that she and her family could arrange to pack our belongings to
transport them to MA. My sister and her boyfriend had been living in our house
so that it would not sit empty. It would be good to have our belongings and be
independent again. Beth's dad and Granddad drove the truck with our things in
them and Beth, her mom and Derek drove our car back out here.
We were settled in our new home and I continued working at the McDonalds where
I had worked as a teenager, during this time, my family also parked cars for a
friend who owns an office park about a mile from what was then known as Foxboro
Stadium where the New England Patriots played. We would park cars on Game
nights as well as concert nights. We would make a decent night's wages, and I
would collect cans and bottles that people would discard to make extra money.
Many nights I made $300-$400 in cans and bottles. We also would make 75-150
each per night. Our friend who owned the park was a huge help to us during this
time of trials that we were going through. He asked how I was dealing with
legal fees and helped me to get a new job where I worked during the day as the
in-house IT person for an accounting firm that were tenants of his. I did this
during the day, and worked evenings/weekends at McDonalds for several months.
Working two jobs, the high stress of the legal fight we were facing and my
inability to grieve left my body in a state where I was getting so physically
sick that I could not go to work. Over Christmas that year, I ended up in the
hospital with a severe case of Diverticulitis. I was in the hospital for almost
a week, on Morphine, another pain medication, and a cocktail of IV antibiotics.
During this time, I was let go from my job at the accounting firm, even though
they knew the basic details of my legal situation, and were understanding and
accommodating I ended up losing my job there due to my illness and ultimately
due to my hospitalization, the reason that they gave for terminating me was
abuse of the company sick policy. (They had sent me flowers during my stay in
the hospital and called me about every day to see how I was doing). I won my
unemployment hearing by the way.
Now that we have had some distance, between those events, and that I have given
more thought to the matter and given the proximity to the "Millennium”, it
is likely that they just really needed someone to ensure that they and the
clients that their accounting firm supported were Y2K compliant. It would have
been nice to know this going in, I'm sure my friend had no idea, and perhaps
this is just my twisted perspective on the matter, I think that I am being
objective, I don't feel any anger to them or any of their employees, in fact,
we have gone to several tailgating parties that they have before patriots
games, and even been given tickets to pre-season games.
I got well, and collected unemployment while still working at McDonalds, since
the other job had paid considerably more, and I had only been working part time
at McDonalds, I was able to work and still collect my full benefits. I
continued working there, and eventually once my unemployment benefits were
exhausted, I worked full time with as much overtime as I could physically
handle. My frequent court dates and getting "jerked around" by the
system along with all the negative things that had happened to my family
started to take its toll on my performance at work. My attitude showed the toll
it was taking. I ended up getting suspended a few times, and then things are
sort of a blur for a while, I know that I had to have been working, I
can't remember where, I assume it was McDonalds, and possibly Roche Brothers as
well if my memory serves right. I know one thing; I had begun to drink quite a
bit. Beth and I would get together with a couple that I had known since High
School, and we would play cards, drink, and eat Chinese food (usually at their
place in Taunton). Usually, the men would put away the majority of the booze,
the women would usually only have a few drinks over the course of the 3-4 hours
that we spent together.
Soon, our friends moved into a vacant apartment in the complex below us. It was
great, Our Landlord lived in the apartment across from us, our good friends
lived below us, and there was never a shortage of booze if we wanted it, we
often had barbeques in the back yard, just our three families, and we built a
fireplace out of bricks that my friend had gotten. We would have fires almost
every night in the summer and eat out back and drink. Good times, thinking
about it even now, although I realize that I drank excessively much. We did not
drink every night, but when we did, I would binge drink. Thinking back to my
day’s right out of high school, I would binge drink with whatever group of
friends I was with. Make no mistake about it, I am not proud of this fact, I
merely state it because it is a part of this past that has made me the man that
I am.
Time wore on, our son, and our friends daughter were in Kindergarten together,
they had a second child, a daughter, who used to follow my oldest around...I
can still hear him saying, "make this girl stop following me around."
she seemed to adore him. We got some good news ourselves, we were expecting, it
seemed like it could not be true at first, I mean we had experienced so much
pain and heartache, yet here we were expecting. The feeling was fleeting, we
had a miscarriage. Beth and I had to make a tough decision because the baby was
large enough that she could be passed, but there was a chance that there could
be complications. We opted for a D&C, although I struggled with it due to
my moral and religious views greatly at first, I'm not certain where Beth
stood, I mean, we made the decision together, but I think she was just hurting
too much to have any solid ground for any hard convictions one way or the
other.
The procedure was done at the hospital where my second, son would be born just
shy of a year later. Where my third son would be born just three years after
that. Therefore, although God saw fit to allow us to experience the heartache
associated with two losses to this point, he blessed us with three wonderful,
strapping young men as well. Seven months and 10 days after my second son was
born the world, as we knew it would change forever, I do not mean my world, or
my family's world alone, and I mean the entire world. My mother-in-law had been
out for a visit and had stayed with the kids. Beth and I had to go to court in
September, and we were so grateful that she was out there to be with our
children when this happened. There is a song by Alan Jackson, which
commemorates this horrific event of which I speak.
"Where were you when the world stopped turning?" I can answer this
question as clearly as I can recall the events of that day which forever burned
it yet another day in my memory. Beth and I had been in court when the planes
hit the Twin Towers in New York City. It was a very quick court date, not sure
if it was because of what was going on in the world around us, or if it was
just the way things went that day, but we drove home from New Bedford, and had
to stop at Target for something, and I remember being in the checkout and
hearing someone talking about planes hitting buildings, Thinking back, I
remember that we had a cell phone and tried to call my mother-in-law to let her
know that nothing had happened in court (as per the norm for us), but that the
call wouldn't seem to go through. When we got home, we saw why, even though we
had some inkling based on the brief and hushed conversation that we had heard
at Target.
I do not remember if I went to work that day, although, it is a safe bet to
assume that I did not. I had been working at a "Mom and Pop" computer
store in Easton as the Primary service Technician, serving clients’ computers
both in store and on site. I was also in charge of building new systems and
sales and eventually even ordering inventory. I loved the job, I have always
had a natural bent for Technology, computers where IMHO better and easier to
deal with than people, since there was no messiness of feelings and emotions to
deal with, by this point, I had been stuffing and numbing most of my major
feelings and emotions (Mostly the negative ones, that needed to be expressed in
healthy ways) and was pretty much numb to almost everything. I do remember
feeling Joy, and what most would describe as love, and it is love in a sense,
but only the most minimum sense, towards my family, my wife, kids, mother,
father, sister, brother, etc. I say it is love in a sense, because I have long
believed, and had the ability to relearn what I had originally known, is that
Love (as the Bible describes it) is not a feeling word, but an action word.
Love is a noun for sure, but in that form, it is abstract, the ways in which
that love which is a noun are demonstrated, those are Love, the verb. The
actions show what we are feeling, if we are doing it right.
Romans 5:8 New King James Version (NKJV)
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still
sinners, Christ died for us.
This verse demonstrates the way we are to "Do" love. We are to
demonstrate to others our love...it is an action word. Christ's example shows
us that He preferred us to himself, and so we must prefer others to ourselves.
We are all being called to die to self, and live to Christ, in this way, we are
able to show our love for Him, and prefer others to ourselves.
Life continued for us in our "New Normal" Court appearances, working,
barely making ends meet. As I said earlier we found out soon that Beth was
pregnant again. It was exciting but not meant to be. We had a miscarriage, and
Beth had to go in for a D&C because the baby was large enough that there
could be complications if nature were allowed to take its course. That baby was
initially referred to as "Bean”, but we came to find out that the Drs.
Thought it was indeed a girl, and so we named her Calliegh Anne Washburn. More
heartache, I had a challenging time dealing with this after the loss of our
first Daughter. We made it through this next crisis, and things got better. In March
of 2002, our second son Joshua was born. He was a cute little kid, did not talk
much, just sort of grunted, so he earned the nickname "Cave Baby". We
taught him some basic sign language, and eventually he felt the need to speak.
Nowadays, the issue is getting him to Stop talking, lol.
Our next big crisis was to take place in June of 2002. I lost the job that I
had been working at faithfully for the last two years. I was devastated; things
were just getting back to normal with the exception of this legal situation
looming over our heads. I filed for unemployment, but the employer contested
it, saying that I had been stealing from him, which was not true, but from my
experience with him, he was not a nice person to work for/with. He proclaimed
himself a Christian but would routinely make racist and offensive statements
about persons of other ethnic backgrounds. He also made very disparaging
remarks about my weight and so forth. I kept working as long as I could because
I needed to be able to support my family.
I continued to look for work after this, but with having to go to court every
month, and probation every two weeks, it seemed almost pointless. I kept
looking, but we had to apply for cash assistance and continued getting food
stamps and MassHealth. This was not how I had envisioned raising my family, and
if I am being honest, I was very resentful that God had allowed all of this to
transpire.
In September, I got word from my Public Defender. We finally had a date for
trial. We now discussed whether we wanted to go with a Jury or a Jury waived
trial. Knowing the kind of charges that I was up against, we went with a Jury
waived trial. My attorney agreed. I mean it made perfect sense that a Judge
would have to follow the law and go by the evidence. There was no evidence
except he said, she said since I was not guilty of a crime for which I had been
accused. Right?
Radio silence...the answer is wrong. The trial was a few hours long. The DA
ripped me apart on the stand, which was not hard to do because although I was
innocent, I was very anxious about this whole thing, and I tend to over-talk
when I am nervous. Everyone in the courtroom was surprised that the Judge had
found me guilty. I was remanded into the state's custody, and was hauled off to
Jail to sit in the county lockup until my sentencing in December.
I had a really hard time adjusting to Jail. Firstly, I was not getting any of
my meds for anxiety and depression that I had been on for the last 4 years. I
got no dental care other than to have teeth extracted. I had heard all the
horror stories, of course, and those are the immediate responses that you have
when you suddenly find your freedom has been stripped from you. I was placed in
the protective custody unit, with other "Offenders" given a cellmate
who was very silent and brooding. A "nice" guy in that he offered me
advice to stay safe, this was not his first go-round in the joint. He was in
for some serious offenses and was very likely looking at prison for the rest of
his natural life.
I was essentially all alone. You are not allowed any visitors for the first
week or two so you can "acclimate to the environment" I did not even
come out of my cell (which was locked down for about 22 hours a day) during
"Rec Time". I asked around a bit after a few days if anyone had an
extra bible that I could use. Someone gave me one. I began to read it
continuously, only stopping to eat, sleep and use the toilet (which was also
right there in the cell with us).
After a few days, my cellmate told me that I needed to get out of the cell and
get my head out of the Bible or it would mess my head up. I followed the first
part of his advice; I did leave my cell during rec time. However, I continued
to read my bible. In 30 days, I did something that I had struggled to do my
entire life; I read the bible from cover to cover. I mean, all told, I had read
the bible through several times in my life as a Christian but never cover to
cover this way.
After a few weeks, we were told that we were going to be moved to an outdoor
unit. They kept us in the gym while the unit was being prepared. I was no
longer going to be with my cellmate that I was first with. Word got to me once
we were settled in the new unit that he had hung himself rather than face the
rest of his life in prison. This hit me very hard, because although it is not
as if we were friends, or even close, he looked out for me when I first got
there and human contact, no matter how vile we might think a person is, is
crucial to our survival.
I do not really remember much about who my next cellmate was. I remember having
more trouble with my adjustment, my mail was being tampered with in that it was
delayed or held back from me, my phone calls were of course being monitored,
just like everyone else’s. I finally went back to court in December for
sentencing. My attorney had visited me prior and told me that he felt as though
he had failed me (no kidding) he said that he was going to do everything in his
power to make this right. He suggested to my family that they have all of my business
associates, family and friends write to the judge on my behalf.
When sentencing time arrived, I was sentenced to 10 years in prison my alleged
crime predated truth in sentencing laws which means that in most contexts
parole is curbed, which means that convicts serve the period of time that they
had been sentenced to. Therefore, I was given what is known in MA as a 10-year
Concord sentence, with 4 years to serve and the remainder would be on parole. I
would have to register as a sex offender, or this would violate my parole when
released.
My attorney asked for a stay of execution (which meant that although I was
still in custody, my actual sentence would not be carried out until she heard a
motion for a new trial on the grounds of ineffective council). This stay was
granted. My attorney set out to find someone to help him with this motion for a
new trial. I remained incarcerated until the following March, with routinely
scheduled court appearances, I went through the process of getting prepared for
court, and being dragged around the state only to get a few minutes from the
courthouse to find out that for one reason or another my court date had been
cancelled.
This continued for weeks on end as well as the issues with me not getting my
mail, and not being able to reach anyone on the telephone. Consider those along
with the fact that I had not been getting my anxiety and depression medications
that I had been on for a few years (since this nightmare started) and my mind
snapped. I had what I can only call a psychotic break. One night after lock
down, I got up in my cell and would not stop flipping the lights in my cell on
and off. The guard on duty opened my cell door to tell me to knock it off and I
shot out of the cell door. He apparently kept telling me to return to my cell
but I refused. He allowed another inmate that was what was known as a
"Life-Liner", a sort of counselor to help other inmates in crisis
come and talk to me.
At this point, something had to be done. I would not
return to my cell, I wouldn't or couldn't listen to reason. The guard on the
unit called for backup, and twelve guards came in to handcuff me and take me to
the medical unit. They were so unsure of my unusual behavior that they did not
shackle me or put anything on my feet. I remember as the twelve guards were
leading me out of the unit hearing one of my friends yell out, I will be
praying for you, I don't remember this at the time, but I have been told that I
responded with "Don't Bother". This is totally not me; I am a strong
believer in the power of prayer, I have been a follower of Christ most of my
life, and normally have a very strong handle on things spiritual.
During the time I was in the medical unit I was on what
they call "Suicide Watch". I was stripped of all of my clothing, and
monitored 24 hours a day. I was not allowed any visitors or phone calls, so my
family knew something was wrong, but not what. Thankfully, my sister was in
contact with one of the other inmates that I had become good friends with, and
he kept them apprised of the situation. I spent about 5 or 6 days in the
medical unit, I remember talking through the vent to a female inmate that was
in the next cell, trying to understand what was going on with myself, as she
probably was with herself, I remember as I started to come back to my senses,
singing old songs that I had learned in my youth at Sunday School. I remember
talking to her about her worth in the eyes of God, and that she said that she did
not think that God could forgive her for all of the bad things that she had
done.
I finally recovered and was returned to the Protective
Custody unit. Now I had to face the disciplinary board because of the incident.
I was locked down for two weeks, which meant that I did not get to get out of
my cell for rec time, I could come out during showers, and for visits. The
guard who had been on duty that night happened to be on shift the day that I
came back. I apologized to him and asked him if he would allow some of the
other inmates to come into my cell so that we could have our Bible Studies, and
I could be included. He agreed, so at least I was not completely isolated from
my support system inside the jail.
My physical incarceration lasted from October 2002
through March 10, 2003. Only 6 months if you look at it that way, My mental and
emotional incarceration lasted much much longer, from September of 1999 until
2014 or so when I finally decided that I was ready to seek help with the issues
that caused
my mental health issues. I still have days where I feel
like I am still emotionally and mentally jailed, and probably will for the rest
of my life, but the important thing is that I am seeking treatment, I am
getting help both through therapy and medication that has helped me stabilize
my moods. I still have nights where I have terrible nightmares, even though I
was never harmed or injured by anyone in the jail, just being there harmed me
to the point that I have these due to the trauma. Most days are fine, most
nights I do not have nightmares, but when I do, they are terrifying.
Here are some fast facts about Bi-Polar Disorder(s):
Fast Facts
PREVALENCE AND TREATMENT RATES
· 7.9
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with severe mental illness (3.3% of
the population) *
· 3.9
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with untreated severe mental
illness in any given year (1.5% of the population) *
· 5.3
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with severe bipolar disorder (2.2%
of the population) *
· 40%*
~ Percentage of those with severe bipolar untreated in any given year
· 2.6
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with schizophrenia (1.1% of the population)
*
· 51%*
~ Percentage of those with schizophrenia untreated in any given year
CONSEQUENCES OF NON-TREATMENT
· 216,000
~ Approximate number of homeless U.S. adults with untreated severe mental
illness
· 400,000
~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with untreated mental illness in jails or
prisons
· 13,000
~ Approximate number of suicides committed each year under the influence of
schizophrenic, manic or depressive symptoms
· 10%
~ Approximate percentage of homicides committed each year by U.S. adults with
severe mental illness (approximately 1,400/year at 2012 homicide rates)
· 50%
~ Approximate percentage of mass killings committed by individuals with
untreated severe mental illness
* National Institute of Mental Health, 2010
ASSISTED OUTPATIENT TREATMENT (AOT)
Number of states with assisted outpatient treatment laws: 45
Sample of results:
New York Kendra Law's study showed that for participants
in assisted outpatient treatment:
· 77
percent fewer experienced hospitalizations compared to before participation
· 74
percent fewer experienced homelessness compared to before participation
· 83
percent fewer experienced arrests compared to before participation
· 88
percent fewer experienced incarceration compared to before participation
New York consumer responses to assisted outpatient
treatment:
· 75
percent said they helped to gain control over their lives
· 81
percent said it helped them to get well and stay well
· 90
percent said they made them more likely to keep appointments and to take
medication
Source:
http://www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org/problem/fast-facts
People with Bi-Polar disorder suffer in silence for 10
years before getting treatment. I know I did. Often, Doctors get only a small
glimpse of the picture, only what we allow them to see, we are often afraid of
the stigma that comes with the diagnosis of a mental illness. I, myself was
afraid that if it became known that I was bi-polar, I would not be allowed to
be alone with my children. My wife assured me that this was never come to
happen, eventually my fears of this subsided. People who are Bi-Polar often
suffer from: Panic Attacks, Paranoia (every time the boss calls me into her
office, the first place my mind goes, even though I know I have done nothing
wrong) is oh no! Here it comes, the axe is going to fall. There have been times
when it has, but most of the time, it is just paranoia getting the better of
me.
If I can end one day, one minute of suffering of one
person by sharing my story, it will all have been worth everything that I have
been through. I hope that if this person is you, that you will learn from my
story, that you do not need to be alone and suffer in silence. I genuinely
believe that God allowed me to experience these trials and tribulations for
this purpose. I know it sounds cliché, but it is most certainly the case, God
does allow, let me be clear, he doesn't send them (See the book of Job) but he
does allow them in order to strengthen us, to mold us, to teach him to rely on
HIS strength, his peace, his comfort. To remind us as the scripture says in
Proverbs 3:5-6 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your
own understanding, In ALL your ways acknowledge HIM, and HE will guide your
paths straight..."
One of the greatest lessons that I learned through the
ordeal of being imprisoned for something I didn't do was to learn to be
content, no matter where I was, no matter what the situation. Being content does
not mean lying back and just taking it, it meant being at peace at where I was
and not letting it affect me negatively so as to change me into a person I
wasn't. It would have been extremely easy to just become another number in the
system, my own little personal version of Jean Valjean number 24601. In
becoming what they wanted me to become, I would be losing my own identity, thus
giving control over to them that was not rightfully theirs. The control in my
life belonged to God, and he taught me that I could rest in Him, no matter
wherever, through whatever, and that he would hold me and protect me.
Another lesson that I had to relearn through all of this was to allow others to
help me by bearing my burdens with me. I have struggled with this for so long,
it had become near impossible for me to share these burdens, I felt that they
were mine to bear alone, again, not that I had done anything that would cause
my family these hardships, but because I was here, they experienced them, I
struggled with that guilt. The scripture warns us in Galatians 6:2 about this:
"Bear ye one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ."
This applies to us as believers in Christ, if we are not allowing others to
help us bear our burdens, we are not fulfilling the law of Christ. We are also,
and primarily to exchange our yoke for the yoke of Christ. in Matthew 11:29-30
the Lord commands us with these words: "Take my yoke upon you and learn of
me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
We must learn and often re-learn these truths until they become second nature
to us. We are never truly alone in our struggles. Even if it seems that God is
far away from us in times of trouble, He isn't, it is our hearts that are far
away from him, and far away from others. If we just let ourselves exchange
those heavy, burdensome yokes, for His light one, and allow our friends, and
loved ones help us in our burdens, we will do well in life. I struggled for a
long time to overcome these demons that I face, and though they will never
likely ever subside completely, with medication, therapy, prayer, support from
family and friends and the support of others who are experiencing similar
trials, I can make it through this day to the next, and the next, and the next,
one day, one minute, one second at a time.
If you struggle with Bi-Polar disorder, or you or someone
in your life suspects that you do, I urge you to get help for it, get into
therapy, get a Psychiatric doctor, get diagnosed and get the help you need
before it overwhelms and consumes you, it will do so if you let it, I was
almost at this point when I finally sought treatment. Do not let it get to the
point that I was at, it will just cause you great heartache. In this end, I
believe that this was a large contributor to the ending of my first marriage. I
had just gone for so long without getting the help I needed that it became difficult
for me to engage in that relationship. Not saying that this was the only
factor, but it was definitely a significant factor. It affects all of your
relationships, my interactions with my children, my other family was not what
it should have, could have been. It caused me to isolate myself from family,
from friends to the point that I now have only a handful of people I count as
friends. DO NOT let it get to the point that I was at, seek treatment, you will
thank me if you do.
All the while I have been struggling coming to terms with
my own mental illness, one of my sons also developed mental illness. At first
it appeared to be OCD and Major Depressive Disorder. He began self-harming, and
ended up going to an inpatient treatment center to help him stabilize. From
there he went into a CBAT (Community Based Acute Treatment) Program, at first
inpatient, then on an outpatient basis. During this time, I became his primary
caregiver all the while struggling with my own mental illness issues. I was
beginning to get a handle on it, but still not at 100%. But I had to be certain
that he was in a place where he was stabilized. He has since had a relapse, and
we are seeking to have his diagnosis re-evaluated. He seems to fit into both a
Bi-Polar and Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis, but that has yet to be
determined positively. I have been stable for several years with medication and
therapy. I am currently involved in a day program 3 hours a day 5 days a week
to help me with socialization and learn coping skills for dealing appropriately
with my anxiety and Bi-Polar disorders.
The Middle
The weekend was normal for us, as normal as it could be.
Many tears. If I remember correctly, we did go to church, where many people
offered their condolences. It was thoughtful of them, and I know that they all
meant well, but no words could change what had happened, nothing could bring
our baby girl back, but still, it was very thoughtful of them. We all comforted
each other as best as we could, it was all we could do at this point.
Life went even more askew for us the next day. Monday,
September 20, 1999, is another day that will forever be burned into my brain.
This was the day that I was arrested. I had got up as I normally had every day;
I ate some breakfast and had gone into the bedroom to get my clothes to take a
shower. There was a knock at the door. Someone called for me, I cannot remember
if it was my mom, or dad, or Beth, but someone called me and said that the
police were back at the door and wanted to talk to me again. Even now, I am
filled with anxiety writing about this, the feeling of that day and the emotion
tied with it is so strong that it threatens to overwhelm me.
The officer at the door told me that he needed to take me
downtown, as I had been positively identified as the perpetrator of a rape in
New Bedford, MA, and they had been waiting for a Governor's Warrant from the
State of MA to arrest me as a fugitive from justice. They did not tell me who I
was suspected of raping, my mind raced, I had never done anything like this,
and I couldn't wrap my head around it. I was trying to think of who could accuse
me of such a thing. I had never said a mean word to anyone, let alone hurt
anyone, not deliberately. I explained to the officer that I did not understand
what was going on, and asked if I could take a shower before I went with him,
as I had just been about to do that. He said that would be fine. I showered and
got dressed. They sent additional officers to assist, since it had been a long
time since he had been at the door. The officer was gracious enough to not put
me in handcuffs in front of my three-year-old son. I went with him again
thinking that there must be some mistake and that this would all be cleared up
quickly. I was completely wrong. The journey that lay ahead of me and of us as
a family would take over ten years to resolve.
I was taken downtown and booked. Treated like a criminal,
which in the minds of the officers, I was. I was kept in a separate unit, it
was explained to me that I was accused of the worst imaginable crime, rape of a
child. I was told who the alleged victim was, the daughter of my stepdad’s
brother's stepson. This was inconceivable to me. I had a child of my own; I
could never hurt a child. To me, based on how I was brought up on the Christian
faith, this was the worst thing that a person could do. The thought made me
cringe. I called home to try to find out what was being done to get this
resolved; my family had contacted a friend, an attorney who was formerly an
assistant DA. He outlined what would happen next, that I would go before a
judge or magistrate and I had the choice to either waive extradition (which I
did) and go back to face charges voluntarily (in custody, of course) or fight
extradition. To me, it made no sense to fight it, as I was innocent, and in my
mind, I still thought and believed that this would be resolved quickly.
I met with an attorney that was appointed to me for a
very brief time before we went up to see the judge, he was just about useless,
I waived extradition, and was told that I would be held until Massachusetts
could send someone out to get me. I was held for about two weeks, although it
seemed like it was a lot longer. During this time, I was treated just as if you
would expect someone accused of what I had been accused of to be treated. I was
kept separately from others, except those that would not harm me, but they
still had access to my clothing when I needed it to be washed. One time, I had
sent my underpants to be washed, and they came back so bleached that it burned
my skin. The phones were another issue. I had no connection to the outside
world, and the phones were only on in the unit I was in for a brief period. I
submitted what is known as a "Ticket" to try to get some assistance
with the phones and other things and was actually threatened by a guard to be
put up in the General Population. I was petrified of this. I had heard stories
of what they do to people accused of the crime I was accused of there. I did
get some visitors; my dad came up to see me with my wife and my son. My wife
had told my son that I was at work. I remember clearly him saying, "Dad, I
like your work uniform". He did not know, could not know what was really
happening. When I think of him saying that now, it breaks my heart.
After about two weeks, MA got around to sending someone
out to "collect" me. A state trooper and the "investigator"
who was investigating the case. He was a real piece of work. He kept badgering
me to try to get information from me. I did not have anything to give him. At
one point, I told him that I was not going to talk to him about it at all. He
said, "It's a long trip, you don't want to talk at all?" I said I
would talk about anything you want, except this case; you want to talk about
the patriots, fine, leave me alone about this. He did not. At one point, he said
that he thought I was trying to pin this on my brother. I never said any such
thing to the man. I merely said that I was never involved in babysitting this
child; in fact, I had almost no exposure, ever to the family.
We sat in the back of the plane, me with cuffs and
shackles on. I can only imagine what other passengers must have thought. The
State trooper said that if I wanted, I could use his jacket to cover the
handcuffs. I said, I do not have anything to hide, or anything to be ashamed
of, I am innocent and refused his offer. We arrived in Rhode Island at TF Green
airport late in the evening of what had to be the 30th of September. I was
placed in the oldest working jail in the country, Ash Street Jail in New
Bedford, MA. Again, I was treated horrendously. They took my shoelaces; they
took my glasses, my belt. One of the guards again threatened me and kept
calling me a pedophile. I maintained my innocence, which only made him madder.
I was booked there and told that I would be going up to court in Attleboro
District Court the next day. I was allowed one brief phone call, in which I let
my parents know that I was ok, and asked that they let my wife and other family
know, and that I would be in court in Attleboro the next day, that they should
bring bail money and they told me that our friend, the former DA would be
handling my arraignment.
Morning came, not soon enough, and in actuality, this was the beginning of the
darkest night of our lives. A night that lasted 10 years in the legal system
and continues now as my family and I battle the mental illness that was
triggered through this entire trauma. In the morning, I was given back my
glasses, which had conveniently "broken all by themselves" or, they
had been broken when I gave them to the guard (SMDH). I was transported in one
of the most comfortable vehicles I have ever had the privilege to ride in my
entire life, more comfortable than any limousine you can imagine... There were
these wooden benches, which were not really fastened down to anything, and they
were in a Metal van, there were three sections in the back of this van. Divided
by steel grating dividers. Did I mention that I was shackled by a chain that
started between the handcuffs I was wearing, went down slightly, around my
waist, and then a longer chain which was chained to my leg irons. My head hit
the roof with every bump we went over, anyone who has ever driven in
Massachusetts, will tell you, there is no such thing as a road without
potholes. About an hour or so later, I was in the holding cell in the
courthouse, awaiting my arraignment.
My Attorney that was managing my arraignment was able to come down and meet
with me briefly before the arraignment began. He explained to me that I was to
utter two words only during the arraignment, Not Guilty. Anyone who knows me
knows that I am a nervous talker. I have always been for as long as I can
remember, they also know that I am a staunch believer in the truth, and it was
unfathomable to comprehend that I was accused of these crimes...It was very
hard for me to simply say Not Guilty and not elaborate, but by the grace of God,
I did just that.
I was granted bail at $5000 cash, or $50,000 surety. I also had to report
weekly to a probation officer as a condition of my bail, as I was considered a
flight risk (even though I grew up here, and had long standing roots in the
community, and my family was here). I would have to imagine it is because my
wife and son were not here yet, as well as the seriousness of the crime of
which I was accused. Nevertheless, I was innocent and was going to do whatever
it took to prove that. My grandmother posted bail for me, and I was released
that afternoon after what seemed like hours and hours of paperwork. The next
step in the journey for me was to find work and get my wife and son out here.
The next step in the legal process was for the matter to go before a Grand Jury
for indictment, or a direct indictment, a Grand Jury has a preliminary hearing
to decide two things: a) has a crime been committed and b) could this person
have done it. A direct indictment is one in which the case is sent directly to
trial before a preliminary inquiry is completed, or when the accused has been
discharged by a preliminary inquiry.
My case went before a Grand Jury. The Grand Jury found that there was enough
evidence to meet standard a, and that I could have committed the crime based on
the evidence that was provided to them at the time (this information was
incomplete, as I had military records which would have shown that I did not
really have an opportunity to commit this crime or any other, but I didn't have
easy access to them as I had thrown away my hard copies, and had to obtain new
copies). My case would be moved up to Superior Court.
I found a job at the McDonalds where I had worked before moving to Iowa. The
same woman owned it that had owned it when I worked there previously. I met
with her, and explained the situation, she couldn't believe it and said
immediately that she would start me back to work as a shift manager, and she
would be flexible to meet my new schedule with court appearances and probation
and such, which was a real blessing. I am profoundly grateful to her for this.
It wasn't the best job in the world, and was a job I thought I had left long
behind, but I had to support my family.
This was a truly trying time for us, me being back in MA (I truly felt unable
to mourn since I had been ripped out of the situation completely), my wife
still mourning the loss of our daughter and ill with some sort of respiratory
illness. My son was ill with a respiratory illness, wondering where his dad had
gone, mourning and grieving for his lost sister (as much as a 3 year old is
able to understand what had happened. Separated through no choice or fault of
our own. My wife had to apply for public assistance to be able to pay the rent
and eat, meanwhile, I was sending every penny I made that I didn't need to live
off of back to her, and the state was going to make me pay child support back
to them since I was out of the home and they were receiving cash benefits. Did
you get that? I was out of the home, involuntarily, by the state of MA being
prosecuted for a crime I didn't commit and my family was forced to rely on
public assistance to survive, me sending every penny I could to provide for
them, and now Iowa was going after me for child support.
Given all of the recent events, I began to get physically ill; I also was
suffering depression and severe anxiety. I was diagnosed with PTSD and
subsequently treated with Anti-Depressants and Anti-Anxiety medications. I ran
the gamut of available Anti-Depressants available at the time, and found some
that made things a little better, but not much. I needed my wife and son, and I
needed this nightmare to end. My in-laws made arrangements for our stuff to go
into storage (most of it) and my sister and her then boyfriend moved into our
house in Iowa. Beth and DJ came out to live with my family and me. My brother
and sister in law and their son moved to an apartment in Foxboro, to make room
for my family. So now, there were eight of us living in a 2.5 bedroom
apartment. You talk about cramped. It was insane. My family God love them is
extremely loud (Washburn/Groom/Brophy genes, what can I say), and it was loud,
and crowded. Too much. We began looking for a place of our own after just a
short while.
We found a place about a mile or so from where my parents were living. A two
bedroom that was nice. Our own home again. Beth made plans to go back to Iowa
with Derek so that she and her family could arrange to pack our belongings to
transport them to MA. My sister and her boyfriend had been living in our house
so that it would not sit empty. It would be good to have our belongings and be
independent again. Beth's dad and Granddad drove the truck with our things in
them and Beth, her mom and Derek drove our car back out here.
We were settled in our new home and I continued working at the McDonalds where
I had worked as a teenager, during this time, my family also parked cars for a
friend who owns an office park about a mile from what was then known as Foxboro
Stadium where the New England Patriots played. We would park cars on Game
nights as well as concert nights. We would make a decent night's wages, and I
would collect cans and bottles that people would discard to make extra money.
Many nights I made $300-$400 in cans and bottles. We also would make 75-150
each per night. Our friend who owned the park was a huge help to us during this
time of trials that we were going through. He asked how I was dealing with
legal fees and helped me to get a new job where I worked during the day as the
in-house IT person for an accounting firm that were tenants of his. I did this
during the day, and worked evenings/weekends at McDonalds for several months.
Working two jobs, the high stress of the legal fight we were facing and my
inability to grieve left my body in a state where I was getting so physically
sick that I could not go to work. Over Christmas that year, I ended up in the
hospital with a severe case of Diverticulitis. I was in the hospital for almost
a week, on Morphine, another pain medication, and a cocktail of IV antibiotics.
During this time, I was let go from my job at the accounting firm, even though
they knew the basic details of my legal situation, and were understanding and
accommodating I ended up losing my job there due to my illness and ultimately
due to my hospitalization, the reason that they gave for terminating me was
abuse of the company sick policy. (They had sent me flowers during my stay in
the hospital and called me about every day to see how I was doing). I won my
unemployment hearing by the way.
Now that we have had some distance, between those events, and that I have given
more thought to the matter and given the proximity to the "Millennium”, it
is likely that they just really needed someone to ensure that they and the
clients that their accounting firm supported were Y2K compliant. It would have
been nice to know this going in, I'm sure my friend had no idea, and perhaps
this is just my twisted perspective on the matter, I think that I am being
objective, I don't feel any anger to them or any of their employees, in fact,
we have gone to several tailgating parties that they have before patriots
games, and even been given tickets to pre-season games.
I got well, and collected unemployment while still working at McDonalds, since
the other job had paid considerably more, and I had only been working part time
at McDonalds, I was able to work and still collect my full benefits. I
continued working there, and eventually once my unemployment benefits were
exhausted, I worked full time with as much overtime as I could physically
handle. My frequent court dates and getting "jerked around" by the
system along with all the negative things that had happened to my family
started to take its toll on my performance at work. My attitude showed the toll
it was taking. I ended up getting suspended a few times, and then things are
sort of a blur for a while, I know that I had to have been working, I
can't remember where, I assume it was McDonalds, and possibly Roche Brothers as
well if my memory serves right. I know one thing; I had begun to drink quite a
bit. Beth and I would get together with a couple that I had known since High
School, and we would play cards, drink, and eat Chinese food (usually at their
place in Taunton). Usually, the men would put away the majority of the booze,
the women would usually only have a few drinks over the course of the 3-4 hours
that we spent together.
Soon, our friends moved into a vacant apartment in the complex below us. It was
great, Our Landlord lived in the apartment across from us, our good friends
lived below us, and there was never a shortage of booze if we wanted it, we
often had barbeques in the back yard, just our three families, and we built a
fireplace out of bricks that my friend had gotten. We would have fires almost
every night in the summer and eat out back and drink. Good times, thinking
about it even now, although I realize that I drank excessively much. We did not
drink every night, but when we did, I would binge drink. Thinking back to my
day’s right out of high school, I would binge drink with whatever group of
friends I was with. Make no mistake about it, I am not proud of this fact, I
merely state it because it is a part of this past that has made me the man that
I am.
Time wore on, our son, and our friends daughter were in Kindergarten together,
they had a second child, a daughter, who used to follow my oldest around...I
can still hear him saying, "make this girl stop following me around."
she seemed to adore him. We got some good news ourselves, we were expecting, it
seemed like it could not be true at first, I mean we had experienced so much
pain and heartache, yet here we were expecting. The feeling was fleeting, we
had a miscarriage. Beth and I had to make a tough decision because the baby was
large enough that she could be passed, but there was a chance that there could
be complications. We opted for a D&C, although I struggled with it due to
my moral and religious views greatly at first, I'm not certain where Beth
stood, I mean, we made the decision together, but I think she was just hurting
too much to have any solid ground for any hard convictions one way or the
other.
The procedure was done at the hospital where my second, son would be born just
shy of a year later. Where my third son would be born just three years after
that. Therefore, although God saw fit to allow us to experience the heartache
associated with two losses to this point, he blessed us with three wonderful,
strapping young men as well. Seven months and 10 days after my second son was
born the world, as we knew it would change forever, I do not mean my world, or
my family's world alone, and I mean the entire world. My mother-in-law had been
out for a visit and had stayed with the kids. Beth and I had to go to court in
September, and we were so grateful that she was out there to be with our
children when this happened. There is a song by Alan Jackson, which
commemorates this horrific event of which I speak.
"Where were you when the world stopped turning?" I can answer this
question as clearly as I can recall the events of that day which forever burned
it yet another day in my memory. Beth and I had been in court when the planes
hit the Twin Towers in New York City. It was a very quick court date, not sure
if it was because of what was going on in the world around us, or if it was
just the way things went that day, but we drove home from New Bedford, and had
to stop at Target for something, and I remember being in the checkout and
hearing someone talking about planes hitting buildings, Thinking back, I
remember that we had a cell phone and tried to call my mother-in-law to let her
know that nothing had happened in court (as per the norm for us), but that the
call wouldn't seem to go through. When we got home, we saw why, even though we
had some inkling based on the brief and hushed conversation that we had heard
at Target.
I do not remember if I went to work that day, although, it is a safe bet to
assume that I did not. I had been working at a "Mom and Pop" computer
store in Easton as the Primary service Technician, serving clients’ computers
both in store and on site. I was also in charge of building new systems and
sales and eventually even ordering inventory. I loved the job, I have always
had a natural bent for Technology, computers where IMHO better and easier to
deal with than people, since there was no messiness of feelings and emotions to
deal with, by this point, I had been stuffing and numbing most of my major
feelings and emotions (Mostly the negative ones, that needed to be expressed in
healthy ways) and was pretty much numb to almost everything. I do remember
feeling Joy, and what most would describe as love, and it is love in a sense,
but only the most minimum sense, towards my family, my wife, kids, mother,
father, sister, brother, etc. I say it is love in a sense, because I have long
believed, and had the ability to relearn what I had originally known, is that
Love (as the Bible describes it) is not a feeling word, but an action word.
Love is a noun for sure, but in that form, it is abstract, the ways in which
that love which is a noun are demonstrated, those are Love, the verb. The
actions show what we are feeling, if we are doing it right.
Romans 5:8 New King James Version (NKJV)
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still
sinners, Christ died for us.
This verse demonstrates the way we are to "Do" love. We are to
demonstrate to others our love...it is an action word. Christ's example shows
us that He preferred us to himself, and so we must prefer others to ourselves.
We are all being called to die to self, and live to Christ, in this way, we are
able to show our love for Him, and prefer others to ourselves.
Life continued for us in our "New Normal" Court appearances, working,
barely making ends meet. As I said earlier we found out soon that Beth was
pregnant again. It was exciting but not meant to be. We had a miscarriage, and
Beth had to go in for a D&C because the baby was large enough that there
could be complications if nature were allowed to take its course. That baby was
initially referred to as "Bean”, but we came to find out that the Drs.
Thought it was indeed a girl, and so we named her Calliegh Anne Washburn. More
heartache, I had a challenging time dealing with this after the loss of our
first Daughter. We made it through this next crisis, and things got better. In March
of 2002, our second son Joshua was born. He was a cute little kid, did not talk
much, just sort of grunted, so he earned the nickname "Cave Baby". We
taught him some basic sign language, and eventually he felt the need to speak.
Nowadays, the issue is getting him to Stop talking, lol.
Our next big crisis was to take place in June of 2002. I lost the job that I
had been working at faithfully for the last two years. I was devastated; things
were just getting back to normal with the exception of this legal situation
looming over our heads. I filed for unemployment, but the employer contested
it, saying that I had been stealing from him, which was not true, but from my
experience with him, he was not a nice person to work for/with. He proclaimed
himself a Christian but would routinely make racist and offensive statements
about persons of other ethnic backgrounds. He also made very disparaging
remarks about my weight and so forth. I kept working as long as I could because
I needed to be able to support my family.
I continued to look for work after this, but with having to go to court every
month, and probation every two weeks, it seemed almost pointless. I kept
looking, but we had to apply for cash assistance and continued getting food
stamps and MassHealth. This was not how I had envisioned raising my family, and
if I am being honest, I was very resentful that God had allowed all of this to
transpire.
In September, I got word from my Public Defender. We finally had a date for
trial. We now discussed whether we wanted to go with a Jury or a Jury waived
trial. Knowing the kind of charges that I was up against, we went with a Jury
waived trial. My attorney agreed. I mean it made perfect sense that a Judge
would have to follow the law and go by the evidence. There was no evidence
except he said, she said since I was not guilty of a crime for which I had been
accused. Right?
Radio silence...the answer is wrong. The trial was a few hours long. The DA
ripped me apart on the stand, which was not hard to do because although I was
innocent, I was very anxious about this whole thing, and I tend to over-talk
when I am nervous. Everyone in the courtroom was surprised that the Judge had
found me guilty. I was remanded into the state's custody, and was hauled off to
Jail to sit in the county lockup until my sentencing in December.
I had a really hard time adjusting to Jail. Firstly, I was not getting any of
my meds for anxiety and depression that I had been on for the last 4 years. I
got no dental care other than to have teeth extracted. I had heard all the
horror stories, of course, and those are the immediate responses that you have
when you suddenly find your freedom has been stripped from you. I was placed in
the protective custody unit, with other "Offenders" given a cellmate
who was very silent and brooding. A "nice" guy in that he offered me
advice to stay safe, this was not his first go-round in the joint. He was in
for some serious offenses and was very likely looking at prison for the rest of
his natural life.
I was essentially all alone. You are not allowed any visitors for the first
week or two so you can "acclimate to the environment" I did not even
come out of my cell (which was locked down for about 22 hours a day) during
"Rec Time". I asked around a bit after a few days if anyone had an
extra bible that I could use. Someone gave me one. I began to read it
continuously, only stopping to eat, sleep and use the toilet (which was also
right there in the cell with us).
After a few days, my cellmate told me that I needed to get out of the cell and
get my head out of the Bible or it would mess my head up. I followed the first
part of his advice; I did leave my cell during rec time. However, I continued
to read my bible. In 30 days, I did something that I had struggled to do my
entire life; I read the bible from cover to cover. I mean, all told, I had read
the bible through several times in my life as a Christian but never cover to
cover this way.
After a few weeks, we were told that we were going to be moved to an outdoor
unit. They kept us in the gym while the unit was being prepared. I was no
longer going to be with my cellmate that I was first with. Word got to me once
we were settled in the new unit that he had hung himself rather than face the
rest of his life in prison. This hit me very hard, because although it is not
as if we were friends, or even close, he looked out for me when I first got
there and human contact, no matter how vile we might think a person is, is
crucial to our survival.
I do not really remember much about who my next cellmate was. I remember having
more trouble with my adjustment, my mail was being tampered with in that it was
delayed or held back from me, my phone calls were of course being monitored,
just like everyone else’s. I finally went back to court in December for
sentencing. My attorney had visited me prior and told me that he felt as though
he had failed me (no kidding) he said that he was going to do everything in his
power to make this right. He suggested to my family that they have all of my business
associates, family and friends write to the judge on my behalf.
When sentencing time arrived, I was sentenced to 10 years in prison my alleged
crime predated truth in sentencing laws which means that in most contexts
parole is curbed, which means that convicts serve the period of time that they
had been sentenced to. Therefore, I was given what is known in MA as a 10-year
Concord sentence, with 4 years to serve and the remainder would be on parole. I
would have to register as a sex offender, or this would violate my parole when
released.
My attorney asked for a stay of execution (which meant that although I was
still in custody, my actual sentence would not be carried out until she heard a
motion for a new trial on the grounds of ineffective council). This stay was
granted. My attorney set out to find someone to help him with this motion for a
new trial. I remained incarcerated until the following March, with routinely
scheduled court appearances, I went through the process of getting prepared for
court, and being dragged around the state only to get a few minutes from the
courthouse to find out that for one reason or another my court date had been
cancelled.
This continued for weeks on end as well as the issues with me not getting my
mail, and not being able to reach anyone on the telephone. Consider those along
with the fact that I had not been getting my anxiety and depression medications
that I had been on for a few years (since this nightmare started) and my mind
snapped. I had what I can only call a psychotic break. One night after lock
down, I got up in my cell and would not stop flipping the lights in my cell on
and off. The guard on duty opened my cell door to tell me to knock it off and I
shot out of the cell door. He apparently kept telling me to return to my cell
but I refused. He allowed another inmate that was what was known as a
"Life-Liner", a sort of counselor to help other inmates in crisis
come and talk to me.
At this point, something had to be done. I would not
return to my cell, I wouldn't or couldn't listen to reason. The guard on the
unit called for backup, and twelve guards came in to handcuff me and take me to
the medical unit. They were so unsure of my unusual behavior that they did not
shackle me or put anything on my feet. I remember as the twelve guards were
leading me out of the unit hearing one of my friends yell out, I will be
praying for you, I don't remember this at the time, but I have been told that I
responded with "Don't Bother". This is totally not me; I am a strong
believer in the power of prayer, I have been a follower of Christ most of my
life, and normally have a very strong handle on things spiritual.
During the time I was in the medical unit I was on what
they call "Suicide Watch". I was stripped of all of my clothing, and
monitored 24 hours a day. I was not allowed any visitors or phone calls, so my
family knew something was wrong, but not what. Thankfully, my sister was in
contact with one of the other inmates that I had become good friends with, and
he kept them apprised of the situation. I spent about 5 or 6 days in the
medical unit, I remember talking through the vent to a female inmate that was
in the next cell, trying to understand what was going on with myself, as she
probably was with herself, I remember as I started to come back to my senses,
singing old songs that I had learned in my youth at Sunday School. I remember
talking to her about her worth in the eyes of God, and that she said that she did
not think that God could forgive her for all of the bad things that she had
done.
I finally recovered and was returned to the Protective
Custody unit. Now I had to face the disciplinary board because of the incident.
I was locked down for two weeks, which meant that I did not get to get out of
my cell for rec time, I could come out during showers, and for visits. The
guard who had been on duty that night happened to be on shift the day that I
came back. I apologized to him and asked him if he would allow some of the
other inmates to come into my cell so that we could have our Bible Studies, and
I could be included. He agreed, so at least I was not completely isolated from
my support system inside the jail.
My physical incarceration lasted from October 2002
through March 10, 2003. Only 6 months if you look at it that way, My mental and
emotional incarceration lasted much much longer, from September of 1999 until
2014 or so when I finally decided that I was ready to seek help with the issues
that caused
my mental health issues. I still have days where I feel
like I am still emotionally and mentally jailed, and probably will for the rest
of my life, but the important thing is that I am seeking treatment, I am
getting help both through therapy and medication that has helped me stabilize
my moods. I still have nights where I have terrible nightmares, even though I
was never harmed or injured by anyone in the jail, just being there harmed me
to the point that I have these due to the trauma. Most days are fine, most
nights I do not have nightmares, but when I do, they are terrifying.
Here are some fast facts about Bi-Polar Disorder(s):
Fast Facts
PREVALENCE AND TREATMENT RATES
· 7.9
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with severe mental illness (3.3% of
the population) *
· 3.9
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with untreated severe mental
illness in any given year (1.5% of the population) *
· 5.3
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with severe bipolar disorder (2.2%
of the population) *
· 40%*
~ Percentage of those with severe bipolar untreated in any given year
· 2.6
million ~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with schizophrenia (1.1% of the population)
*
· 51%*
~ Percentage of those with schizophrenia untreated in any given year
CONSEQUENCES OF NON-TREATMENT
· 216,000
~ Approximate number of homeless U.S. adults with untreated severe mental
illness
· 400,000
~ Approximate number of U.S. adults with untreated mental illness in jails or
prisons
· 13,000
~ Approximate number of suicides committed each year under the influence of
schizophrenic, manic or depressive symptoms
· 10%
~ Approximate percentage of homicides committed each year by U.S. adults with
severe mental illness (approximately 1,400/year at 2012 homicide rates)
· 50%
~ Approximate percentage of mass killings committed by individuals with
untreated severe mental illness
* National Institute of Mental Health, 2010
ASSISTED OUTPATIENT TREATMENT (AOT)
Number of states with assisted outpatient treatment laws: 45
Sample of results:
New York Kendra Law's study showed that for participants
in assisted outpatient treatment:
· 77
percent fewer experienced hospitalizations compared to before participation
· 74
percent fewer experienced homelessness compared to before participation
· 83
percent fewer experienced arrests compared to before participation
· 88
percent fewer experienced incarceration compared to before participation
New York consumer responses to assisted outpatient
treatment:
· 75
percent said they helped to gain control over their lives
· 81
percent said it helped them to get well and stay well
· 90
percent said they made them more likely to keep appointments and to take
medication
Source:
http://www.treatmentadvocacycenter.org/problem/fast-facts
People with Bi-Polar disorder suffer in silence for 10
years before getting treatment. I know I did. Often, Doctors get only a small
glimpse of the picture, only what we allow them to see, we are often afraid of
the stigma that comes with the diagnosis of a mental illness. I, myself was
afraid that if it became known that I was bi-polar, I would not be allowed to
be alone with my children. My wife assured me that this was never come to
happen, eventually my fears of this subsided. People who are Bi-Polar often
suffer from: Panic Attacks, Paranoia (every time the boss calls me into her
office, the first place my mind goes, even though I know I have done nothing
wrong) is oh no! Here it comes, the axe is going to fall. There have been times
when it has, but most of the time, it is just paranoia getting the better of
me.
If I can end one day, one minute of suffering of one
person by sharing my story, it will all have been worth everything that I have
been through. I hope that if this person is you, that you will learn from my
story, that you do not need to be alone and suffer in silence. I genuinely
believe that God allowed me to experience these trials and tribulations for
this purpose. I know it sounds cliché, but it is most certainly the case, God
does allow, let me be clear, he doesn't send them (See the book of Job) but he
does allow them in order to strengthen us, to mold us, to teach him to rely on
HIS strength, his peace, his comfort. To remind us as the scripture says in
Proverbs 3:5-6 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your
own understanding, In ALL your ways acknowledge HIM, and HE will guide your
paths straight..."
One of the greatest lessons that I learned through the
ordeal of being imprisoned for something I didn't do was to learn to be
content, no matter where I was, no matter what the situation. Being content does
not mean lying back and just taking it, it meant being at peace at where I was
and not letting it affect me negatively so as to change me into a person I
wasn't. It would have been extremely easy to just become another number in the
system, my own little personal version of Jean Valjean number 24601. In
becoming what they wanted me to become, I would be losing my own identity, thus
giving control over to them that was not rightfully theirs. The control in my
life belonged to God, and he taught me that I could rest in Him, no matter
wherever, through whatever, and that he would hold me and protect me.
Another lesson that I had to relearn through all of this was to allow others to
help me by bearing my burdens with me. I have struggled with this for so long,
it had become near impossible for me to share these burdens, I felt that they
were mine to bear alone, again, not that I had done anything that would cause
my family these hardships, but because I was here, they experienced them, I
struggled with that guilt. The scripture warns us in Galatians 6:2 about this:
"Bear ye one another's burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ."
This applies to us as believers in Christ, if we are not allowing others to
help us bear our burdens, we are not fulfilling the law of Christ. We are also,
and primarily to exchange our yoke for the yoke of Christ. in Matthew 11:29-30
the Lord commands us with these words: "Take my yoke upon you and learn of
me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.
For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
We must learn and often re-learn these truths until they become second nature
to us. We are never truly alone in our struggles. Even if it seems that God is
far away from us in times of trouble, He isn't, it is our hearts that are far
away from him, and far away from others. If we just let ourselves exchange
those heavy, burdensome yokes, for His light one, and allow our friends, and
loved ones help us in our burdens, we will do well in life. I struggled for a
long time to overcome these demons that I face, and though they will never
likely ever subside completely, with medication, therapy, prayer, support from
family and friends and the support of others who are experiencing similar
trials, I can make it through this day to the next, and the next, and the next,
one day, one minute, one second at a time.
If you struggle with Bi-Polar disorder, or you or someone
in your life suspects that you do, I urge you to get help for it, get into
therapy, get a Psychiatric doctor, get diagnosed and get the help you need
before it overwhelms and consumes you, it will do so if you let it, I was
almost at this point when I finally sought treatment. Do not let it get to the
point that I was at, it will just cause you great heartache. In this end, I
believe that this was a large contributor to the ending of my first marriage. I
had just gone for so long without getting the help I needed that it became difficult
for me to engage in that relationship. Not saying that this was the only
factor, but it was definitely a significant factor. It affects all of your
relationships, my interactions with my children, my other family was not what
it should have, could have been. It caused me to isolate myself from family,
from friends to the point that I now have only a handful of people I count as
friends. DO NOT let it get to the point that I was at, seek treatment, you will
thank me if you do.
All the while I have been struggling coming to terms with
my own mental illness, one of my sons also developed mental illness. At first
it appeared to be OCD and Major Depressive Disorder. He began self-harming, and
ended up going to an inpatient treatment center to help him stabilize. From
there he went into a CBAT (Community Based Acute Treatment) Program, at first
inpatient, then on an outpatient basis. During this time, I became his primary
caregiver all the while struggling with my own mental illness issues. I was
beginning to get a handle on it, but still not at 100%. But I had to be certain
that he was in a place where he was stabilized. He has since had a relapse, and
we are seeking to have his diagnosis re-evaluated. He seems to fit into both a
Bi-Polar and Borderline Personality Disorder diagnosis, but that has yet to be
determined positively. I have been stable for several years with medication and
therapy. I am currently involved in a day program 3 hours a day 5 days a week
to help me with socialization and learn coping skills for dealing appropriately
with my anxiety and Bi-Polar disorders.
