Chapter 4: "So, this is what they call Justice"

[b] WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS GRAPHIC IMAGERY, VIOLENCE, SCUICIDAL THOUGHTS AND IDEATION. IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THE TOPICS MENTIONED, PLEASE AVOID READING. CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION. THANK YOU. [/b]


[hider=Click Me!] “whether I do good or whether I do evil is immaterial, for innocence itself is no protection, and if such an idea as that were to take hold in the mind of the citizen that would be the end of security whatsoever.”
– John Adams


I am on my way home, exhausted from work and suffering from major migraines. I could barely focus on the road but able to stay on track, driving slowly as I navigate the rush hour traffic. I had another long day, filing reports, being overworked, and failing to keep my own promises and delegations to family and friends, while falling behind on what work requires of me. I take a deep sigh as I continue on the road, frustrated with myself as these thoughts plagued my mind. I just kept on pushing though, as I kept on thinking on what every one tells me. [i] It can always be worse...[/i] Sure, it can always be worse, but I felt like I was at a low point in my life, where I was unimportant, incapable of feeling loved or to be loved, and no one would care if I disappeared. I would consistently refer back to prior relationships I had in my life, where I was able to feel happiness of having that feeling of being wanted, sharing thoughts and ideas, talking about the future, and how I desired that more than ever. I had some friends who would incorporate me in activities to try to stimulate it, and I always appreciated the efforts, but it didn't match up. I always ended sessions more depressed than I did before, and I would always say that I was "ok". But in reality I wasn't. Work was not helping with this either, as they over worked me, demanding that projects and obligations to be finished way ahead of schedule. I always had to work after hours, filing information at home. But I decided not to do that today. I was suffering from migraines all week, feeling remorse and mourning over the death of my dog, thinking of my grandmother in the nursing home, who's time was almost up, and I needed to rest, just sleep, praying that things would get better and that I could find a way out of this situation.

Two hours later from driving, I was finally able to get home. First thing I did was get into pajama bottoms and lay down. I was in no mood to talk to my parents, and the house lights aggravated my senses, making me feel nauseous. I had to cover my face with a pillow, to dull everything out, and just lay in silence. Any noise and light was just hurting my head. I needed to calm down, and this is the only thing I could do at the moment. After a few hours of just laying there, I was finally recovered just enough to walk out to the main area of the house, and greeted my parents. They have been concerned for me for a long time up to this point, noticing that I was becoming more depressed and saddened. They remember what happened years ago, where I had suicidal ideation and I was hospitalized in the psych ward. I don't blame them for being concerned, and this also told me I was starting to lose that mask I had for a long time. I used to be able to hide the emotions well, but not anymore. It was becoming more apparent. I talked to them briefly, saying I was just tired and suffering from migraines. I couldn't eat anything due to the nausea, and it just felt like my body ached. I said my goodnights, and it was my father who said one thing before residing to my quarters: "son, we know that you been stressed about work, but please, promise me you won't do anything to harm yourself. We love you". I looked back at him, and was able to genuinely give a half smile, and said "I promise I won't. I love you too dad". Little was I aware, that promise was going to save my life, and one I intend to keep. As much as I wish I was long gone and free from this world, I loved my parents too much to ever break that promise, one I wanted to keep more than anything. I continued to my room and fell asleep for the night.

It is now 6 am in the morning. Normally, I would wake up to the sound of my alarm, but this time, I was awoken by a sound of a nightmare. Bright lights filled the room from the outside, and on the intercom, a repeated sound kept on being said: [i] Residence, please come out with you hands above your head. You have five minutes before we come in [/i]. I walked out of my room confused and half naked. My parents were half naked as well, wondering what was happening. We honestly had no idea what was going on, and we couldn't see outside due to the bright LED lights filling up the house. My father was the first one to open the door, as we were all bewildered and confused. [i] Walk one at a time, hands above your head. [/i] We did what we were told, as we walked outside one by one, walking towards the light. I was second to walk out, and as I walked past the light, the scene started becoming illuminated for me. There were police cars, all surrounding the house. Two SWAT trucks were parked along the street, and a whole bunch of officers with their guns pointed at us. We were apprehended, handcuffed, and forced to be on our knees in the middle of the driveway as officers held guns pointed at our heads. Neighbors started coming out, witnessing the events that were transpiring. My mother started crying, and I tried condoling her, moving my head on her shoulder saying that everything will be alright. The moment I did though, one of the officers shouted [i]"Get off her or I will shoot" [/i]. I said nothing to him and did as instructed, trying to stay as strong as I could. This was a scene out of a horror movie, and we were the stars of it. 

We waited for quite a while before I was brought into interrogation. My migraines were still not subsided, and the nauseous feeling I had was worse than before, probably brought on by the situation at hand. I was brought into interrogation shirtless. I had to request a shirt because I was freezing inside the truck. I was actually surprised at myself that I did not cry yet. I was staying strong and as collected as I could in this situation, though I was close to folding in myself. I waited for what felt like an hour before the detective came in. I still had no idea at the time why this was happening, but I soon came to realize why. The detective revealed the evidence, and I felt complete guilt, shame, and remorse. It was something I had forgotten about, something I was clean for over a while, I would estimate about 2 months at this. It came to hit me all at once. I was responsible for putting my parents in this situation, I was responsible for everything that was occurring, I was responsible. I confessed to everything and even more, worried for there sake and hoping that it would be over, all while the nauseas feeling came back stronger than ever. I started throwing up a bit too. They had heard enough, and finally released my parents from their cuffs, I was arrested. I had a lot of sense of fear overwhelming me, but also some sense of relief. It was out in the open, and I no longer had to hide from it. However, my emotions were being driven wild at this time. I was feeling a bit of everything that I became numb, unable to comprehend what just happened. As I was being taken away, the last thing I was able to see were my neighbors with curious faces on them, my father looking down, and my mother balling her eyes out. Couldn't help but to think I really never deserved anything, that the only thing waiting for me is death, to free everyone from the burden I was. But I couldn't even if I wanted to. I made a promise, and despite my rationale behind everything, I needed to keep it.

I was escorted to the county jail, where I was processed. They were rough with me despite being compliant. I was x-rayed, finger-printed, DNA pricked and sampled, even got a surprise prostate exam in case I had anything in me. It was humiliating to say the least. They asked me further questions, this time about my history of depression. They knew I had suicidal intentions in the past, and used it against me. So much for HIPPA laws, but then again, this was the law itself. I had to tell them the story of what transpired, that I wanted to crash a car into something, ending my life as it were back then. I also explained that I had no intention of suicide now, despite it being the only thing on my mind. I should of just learned to keep my mouth shut, because what happened next is that I became a victim of truly inhumane treatment due to my history.

Everyone knows that jail is not the most humane place in the world. You have the worst of the worst amongst each other, officers not really caring, and horrible slop they call food. But what most don't know, is that if you are suffering from mental issues such as depression, suicidal ideation, or any type of mental instability, your stay becomes worse. Much Much Worse. I was escorted to my cell center, and there I got a good few of the place they were going to lock me up in. You had rooms shielded by plexiglass, men just sitting on the floor with no beds. There was one man locked up behind a cell open metal wiring, who was taunting me in the center.[i] "Ooooooooooh boy, we got fresh meat in here!" [/i]. I just stood there, trying to act tough and starred him down. But on the inside, I was frightened, terrified like a child. The officer then pushed me, saying to get into my cell. The scene honestly shocked me. Laying down on the floor was a man, with a see-through covered veil of a blanket, barely enough to keep anybody warm, and he was completely naked. I thought to myself [i] great, this is my cellmate, a nudist [/i], but then I realized that was not the case at all. The officer pushed me in the cell and straight up said "Remove your clothes, now". I realize now what was happening. He wasn't nude by choice, he was forced. All the men in this area was. I was shaking as I removed my clothing. I was now fully exposed, trying to cover and keep whatever dignity I had. They threw me a heavy blue mat, that nearly knocked me down. This was my "bed". It was covered with stains of blood and what looked like other bodily fluids. I understand why the others opted to sleep on the floor, which was riddled with dust and food debris. Whatever choice you had, it was not sanitary either way.

Before the officer left, I pleaded with to let me have my one phone call. It was cliche, but I knew from the movies and testimonies that you were allowed one. In my horror, the officer turned and stated "you're in the psych ward, you can't have a call", and with a smile, he turned and locked up the cell, leaving me in this severely hopeless position. I looked around to see my new "home". A bright white light filled the room, graffiti and scratch marks were on the cell walls, with swastikas' and gang signs plastered all over. The most haunting thing was a large quote that was written on the walls, that they chose to leave up just to haunt us. A quote from batman. [b][i] WHY SO SERIOUS? HA HA HA HA HA [/i][/b]. I tried looking outside the glass to see if there was anything I could use to measure time, to try to keep me sane, but to no avail. There were no clocks on the walls, no calendars to follow, no windows anywhere to see the outside. Just the officers behind their desk, and some tables out in the center for when the prisoners get their recess. I never even imagined what this was going to be like, but it definitely wasn't this. 

"So, your the new guy huh?". I turned and saw my cellmate, still laying on the floor, and I got a good visual of him. He was a big guy, taller than me, with two large bruises on both sides of his abdomen. With an emotionless face, I replied.

"Yeah, just got in today. What happened to you, got in a fight or something here?" I referred to his bruises on his sides, thinking I needed to prepare if the same might happen to me. What he told me was worse than I thought. He was suicidal and refused to acknowledge a court order issued by his family to be hospitalized. The police came to arrest him for it, and when he resisted, they shot him down with multiple rubber bullets, knocking him out. I asked him how long he's been here. He honestly had no idea. I told him the date, and he looked down, saddened, as if he wished he never heard that. He was there for 20 days already, waiting for his court date to occur for a bond hearing. Reality starts kicking in. This is the place where they just keep you locked up, forgetting that you exist. No communication with the outside world while being naked and afraid. At this point I wish I was dead, wishing for that escape to be out of this God-forsaken Hell-Hole. In my mind I kept on telling myself that this was my punishment, this was my life. I could never be forgiven, that I deserved everything I was receiving. I curled up into a ball in complete surrender. I didn't know if I was getting out, and honestly didn't care anymore. I deserved to rot. Little did I know, the situation is much worse than perceived.

In the psych ward of the jail, they do the bare minimum to keep you alive, and all that they can to keep you insane. We only were offered one cup of water a day, the food was always delivered to us cold with many flies coming out of the container, you were denied showers, cleaning equipment, toothbrush, toothpaste, toilet paper, and ever leaving your cell. I felt as if I was in a zoo, looking behind a glass where other "normal" inmates were able to walk around, fully clothed. A few of them came up to the cell, staring at us stroking their junk right there. The officers didn't care, nor did they intervene. And all I could do is sit back cover myself as best as I could, and close my eyes, wishing to be finished. I also noticed and picked up on the fact that trying to measure time here was essentially meaningless, and it was done on purpose. The light was kept on 24/7, no clock, no windows, no way to ask for time or date. They wanted you to lose meaning, they wanted you to lose it. It was probably their 'excuse" to keep us as mentally unstable as possible to justify its existence and continuance for funding. There was no help here, only torture. And if you decided not to eat or drink that lousy one cup of water, they threatened to force feed you and move you to solitary confinement. You really had to pick your battles here.

I was feeling hopeless and frightened since I got there, and quickly lost track of time. My cellmate was unhinged, saying I was now his "best friend", and nothing could come between us. I just kept my distance and consistently slept with one eye open. Finally, someone came for me. the jails psychiatrist. She said she needed to talk to me for treatment. I wasn't allowed to leave the cell, however, and she didn't come inside. We had to speak and yell between the glass in order for us to hear each other. I wanted to scoff at her statement, saying everything was confidential, and nothing would be shared. Sure, she was surrounded by three officers, and I had a cellmate listening to every word I said. I had to say everything carefully. She started talking about my history of suicide intention, and I had to keep on saying I was not suicidal now, but that did happen. She asked me what my will to live was. I told her my parents. That apparently wasn't good enough, and I needed to think of other reasons if I wanted to get out of here. At this point, everything hit me like a sack of bricks, and for the first time since this endeavor happened, I started crying. I was doing the ultimate taboo in jail. Being naked, and showing vulnerability. I avoided "loud crying", and just let the tears roll off my face, trying to conceal my emotions. My sadness then turned into dismay and anger. I looked back at the psychiatrist, and despite her soft toned voice, she was flushed, blushing, and I swear I saw her licked her lips. [i]This women was turned on.[/i] This was a fetish for her, seeing other men in anguish and depression, naked and afraid, scared for their lives. She saw that I noticed, and she didn't care, continuing to say "you don't want to stay here any longer than what you need to, would you?". At this point, I mellowed out, and became numb again. to looked at her with blood-shot teary eyes and a stern face, expressions telling her [i]we are done here[/i]

She just smiled and said very well, as she moved out to the next cell door. I went back on the floor waiting for any kind of salvation to come. I had no idea how much time has passed, but they day finally came. My bond hearing. I was finally given something to wear, while my legs and arms chained up as if I were a mass murderer of some kind. I will never justify my actions, but I never physically hurt anyone before. There was justice, and then there was cruel and unusual punishment. This was outrageous in my opinion. I was escorted to the court room with other prisoners in the same getup as we all awaited our hearing. I was pulled aside however, away from the other inmates. The officer said "someone is here to speak to you". I figured it was my parents, but it wasn't. It was a lawyer. He wanted to represent my case. I almost refused, however, because I was getting in the mindset that I deserved everything that happened, and I deserved no redemption. I did take him up on it eventually though, and said thank you you before being put back in line with the others. 

When it was my turn to be in front of the judge, I was finally able to see a clock. It was early in the morning, and out in the seats, my parents were there, waiting, refusing to acknowledge me. I understood why. I just bowed my head and waited to hear what the judge had to say. Once it was over, I was brought back to my cell, almost like nothing happened. Stripped of my clothes again, I laid on the floor, wanting to bash my head in so badly, wishing and pleading for a death penalty, even though that wouldn't happen at all. I just felt alone. I still couldn't talk to anyone on the outside, nor could I ever explain the situation I was in if I were able to. To my luck and sanity, in the clothes I was provided before, a pen was left in one of the pockets. I snuck it back into the cell. At the very least, I was able to write on the walls, or hurt myself if it got to the point. I went into a small corner of the cell, which had an obscene view from the officers, and I started writing messages on the wall. I pretended as I was writing letters, to the people I wanted to talk to so badly and apologize them, as if they would somehow receive these mini notes. It started with my parents, then my sister, then some who I considered to be my closest friends, friends I wish I could to appreciate and acknowledge more of. And I ended it with the Lords prayer, "our father". I took a deep breathe, hid the pen underneath my tarnished and disgusting "bed", and continued reading these notes and the prayer, over and over again.

Finally, the day came. My bond was paid off. But I wasn't free yet. Upon my release, I was given my clothes back that I went there with, and was handcuffed again. I was escorted now to a hospital, one I was actually working at. The irony of the situation made me want to cry. Fortunately, I didn't interact with anyone I know, and was sent to their psych division of the hospital. I was dying of thirst, starving, and found out I had lost ten lbs. when I was in jail. I was going to be provided with food and a shower soon, but first, this was the first time I had access to a phone. The handcuffs were released, and the officers left, leaving me in the nurses care. I hesitated, but I needed to call my parents. As soon as I heard their voice, everything I was holding in came out. I cried for nearly a straight thirty minutes over the phone, as I was calling myself a monster, a freak, a creature that needs to disappear and die. I scared the nurses with my statements, but they allowed me to vent over the phone for as long as I needed to. My parents just listened as I went on and on about being an unworthy son, a disappointment to everyone, an unlovable, heartless, fowl thing. The nurses took my statements and stressed them out, telling me I need to hang up the phone. The last thing I heard was [i][b]"son, please, we beg of you, promise me you won't do anything to harm yourself, you are worth more than anything you can imagine. We love you"[/b][/i]

The nurses then hung up the phone on my behalf, where I was unable to say another word as I continued crying.


[hr]

I wake up in a sweat now, I am breathing hard as I grab my pillow, holding it close to me. I am in my bed, staring out the window looking for any sign of the police, horrified if they are coming for me again. This event happened about 6 months ago at this point, and I still have nightmares about it. I cannot trust the officers I see in the street, risk ever calling them, or relying on their services anymore. I just know I am safe right now. Everyone keeps on saying the worst is over, and I won't be going back to where I was again, but it's going to take a very long time before I am able to really move on from this. I had to seek services because it really traumatized me. I am scared, I shiver whenever I think about all the events that happened. And I regret everything that put me into this position in the first place. I get up off my bed, and see my father drinking his coffee, waiting for me. 

"Good morning son. Did you get some rest".

I sigh, and smiled, "Yeah, though I had the nightmare again, which made me miss my alarm. I'm late for work now, I have to get going. I love you, and please be safe today" [/hider]