29 October 2002 ~ Tuesday ~ Felonies, and trouble...

The fast version of the story.......

On Saturday night, Jake got arrested on felony charges of harassment and domestic violence.

Jake is a very sweet and gentle man. He still talks about his blankie with utmost affection. He plays with his brother's kids with more love than I imagined was possible from any uncle... He feeds his parents' chihuahua pieces of cheese and tickles her. According to family legend, as a child, Jake once tried to dig up the deceased family dog in order to bring it along with him to the family's new home. Once, Jake and I went to a farm, and he talked to a little barn-kitten for awhile before trying to stuff it in his pocket and smuggle it home. Jake, in a normal state of mind, would not hurt a fly. The one time Jake hurt me was when, once, he popped a zit of mine (yeah, gross, right?) that wasn't ready to be popped. Hell, once, in the middle of the night, I ran into a vaccuum cleaner he'd left in the middle of the room, and he apologized for THAT...

Everybody likes Jake.

Everybody -- EVERYBODY -- wants him out of jail. My landlord, who was the one who called the police on him, wants him out of jail. Jake isn't on my lease, and has probably stayed over at my place a lot more than he's supposed to without actually going through the credit check stuff. The landlord knows that, and STILL wants him out of trouble.

Jake can't drink. He CAN'T. The three times I've seen him drunk now, he's changed -- he's a changed person. He's a psychotic person. It causes some fucked up chemical reaction in him, and he goes fucking insane.

He threatened to kill me on Saturday night. Graphically. He was screaming so loudly that people on the other side of the building heard him. He chased me around the building, beating on people's doors and yelling for them to let him in... Because of the death threats, he was arrested on felony charges, and is in the county jail. He woke up Sunday morning not remembering a thing: he remembered drinking in a bar, and he remembered waking up in jail. He called his mother and asked what he'd done.

His first hearing was yesterday. It went all right, but it could have been better. He'll have a psych evaluation today. Tomorrow, there will be another hearing to determine bail, or if they'll release him on his own recognizance, or whatever. I think they'll set a trial date tomorrow.

I'm not allowed to speak to him, in ANY way, until after the trial is over. If he tells his mother to tell me "hello," that's a violation of the no-contact order, and they'll charge him with that. I've devised a rather ingenious (if I do say so myself) way of communicating, but I can't let on to that right now, for obvious reasons. I don't trust cops not to be reading this website; I have the sneaking suspicion that at least Binghamton cops have been irregularly monitoring many of my online activities since 1997. I have my reasons for believing that; it's not just paranoia. I shouldn't have even said this much.

Jake's family and I, and his friends, are going to do our best to do what we can for him. What happens if and when he gets released is another story, but I want him released, just so long as there's NO way he'll ever drink again. He can't handle it. It's not safe, for him or anyone else. Psychotic chemical reactions are NOT -- and I have to believe this, I really do -- a part of a person's personality. You give ANYBODY the right combination of chemicals, and they'll end up fucked up and violent. Jake just happens to be pretty sensitive to alcohol. I don't know, guys -- I just really cannot believe that a man should be convicted of, and punished for, a felony he doesn't remember committing, and which I don't believe he had any control over once he started drinking...

I'm pretty sure he doesn't blame me for calling the police that night. I don't KNOW, because we can't speak to each other. But by all the indications he gave via body language in the courtroom yesterday, neither of us hates each other for any of what happened.

This is not the end of the story. This is just the beginning. There are so many other things... So many other things to think about... So many other things that have arisen. And I'm not ready to talk about all of it yet.

Everybody who's reading this, will you do me a favor? Will you say a little prayer, or think a warm, happy thought, or whatever it is that you do, for me, and my friends, and my family? I think every single one of us needs it right now.

They tell me I'm handling it all very well.

I'd beg to differ.

But my friends and neighbors have been very kind. Very supportive. I never knew that a group of people could actually rally around one person in trouble. They don't do that in Binghamton; in Binghamton, they tell you you're stupid, they say, "I told you so," and they kick you out. Amazing, the kind of love I feel from my little community. If I'm handling it well, it's thanks to my friends and my neighbors. And Norman, who has so very many reasons to tell me I'm stupid and that he told me so, but who sent me an email full of written hugs this morning... I'm not alone in any of this.

Fell asleep promptly at 1:06 last night, and woke up at 6:45 this morning. Couldn't get back to sleep. Just sat, and looked at the bay from my window, at the grim, grey sunshine sparkling on the water... Just sat there, contemplating my life: who I am, who I want to be, and if, and how, I might get there...

It's all so, so, so very hard right now.

I have to go to class. I have an essay to turn in. Thankfully, I finished it Friday night.

It's so fucking hot in here...

~Helena*

Thanks, guys... for reading this, and for being here.