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Sep 14, 2006 - 05:24 PM |
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Mr. Javier... You`re under arrest. |
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So, a lot of my friends and generally everyone else never really got the details on what the fuck happened to me the last four years. I guess I can fill you guys in, it`s the least I can do since I always vaguely mention prison and whatnot. I should be able to complete it all in four or five journal entries. Just bear with me. If you`d like for me to elaborate on any certain segment, just ask.
June 2nd, 2002 - November 12, 2002
So my son Vincent was born on June 2nd, 2002. Afterwards I came home and retired as admin from here. I registered him as OO Junior. I also said I`d eventually come back, but with work at UPS and my son, I didn`t know when.
Raising Vincent was stressful. It was a new experience for me, and he seemed extra fussy from what Lenore`s experience with babies told her. In July, the fourth, I met Paikuhan in Las Vegas. I mention little things like this just to give you a general feel for the chronology. In September Lenore got a job, which forced me to babysit Vincent even more while she worked. Which was stressful because the hours she worked I needed to sleep since I worked graveyard hours at UPS. I took care of him, but many times I had her two oldest kids watch him. On my birthday, September 30, I had Lenore quit. Her working brought more money in, nearly 3000, but it wasn`t worth her crying over not spending time with the baby and her older kids and the stress it caused me.
Then October 20th, 2002 came along. I left for my friend`s house since there was a payperview coming on, either boxing or wrestling, and he had a blackbox. After the PPV I`d sleep over since he also worked at UPS and the next day at 3AM we`d go to work together. But just before leaving Lenore calls. Vincent`s arm is limp and red, and he`s obviously hurting over it.
My friend drops me off and I take Lenore to the hospital. His arm is broken with a spiral fracture. Not broken like you imagine, but fractured. To give you an idea, his arm was never casted and he was never medicated in any way.
Child Protective Services (CPS) shows up. They question me, and I tell them the truth. I don`t know wtf happened, I wasn`t there. I left home over 12 hours before. They say they`re going to question the older kids, and idiotically I agree. At the time I didn`t know I had the right to demand a court order. CPS did a lot of shady shit to us, but I`ll keep away from that subject.
Look, I never beat Lenore`s kids. I was beaten when I was little, and like hell if I ever brought that sort of pain on another human being. But I did discipline them, and I did get physical if I had to. Generally just light spanking and holding Lenore`s five year old by the ear as I led him to his room. No scars, bruises, nothing. But when CPS found out I used PHYSICAL FORCE they said they had to take them into their own custody. I agreed, thinking I had no choice. CPS, I later found out, even went as far as to strip the kids down to check for ANY bruises. Luckily the kids hadn`t fought or had any accidents that week. But that must have been humiliating.
The worst part is that, after seeing the condition of Vincent`s arm, they mandatorily x-rayed his entire body. Turns out he had fractures on both legs and a possible skull fracture. They called it "possible" because it could just have been the area where his skull was still forming. Nowadays we have it confirmed that his skull is fine, but, other than being grateful my son`s okay, that does me little good now. These fractures, unlike his arm, were completely unnoticeable. But CPS and the CPS appointed doctor said that we should have been able to notice these injuries. They said we NEGLECTED to bring Vincent in when we knew he was hurt... If that was the case, why the fuck did we bring him in for his arm? Anyway, the doctor said these injuries happened all over September... Unfortunately for me the same month Lenore worked excessively. Basically it was either me or the kids who babysat him that did it... And I know the answer as far as my end is concerned.
Over the next three weeks we go to Family Court. They want to put us on some REUNITE THE FAMILY plan. They tell us, to speed matters up, we need to sign papers admitting we were at fault for what happened. If we don`t, it could take months, maybe years, to get the kids back. Half because of pressure to sign these papers in order to get the kids back faster and half because of my stupidity in not researching the mess I was in we sign. They say we`ll have them back November 12, 2002.
Unfortunately, I did not realize that by signing admission of fault papers, a District Attorney in Justice/District Court could charge and file warrants on not only me, but Lenore. Of course, we`re not told this until after the fact. I shrug it off, thinking there was no way this would happen. I hadn`t done anything, and the truth would set me free anyway. Obviously, I was a little naive about the American Justice System in those days and, to a greater extent, human nature.
On November 12, 2002, I was sleeping at my friend`s place. I forgot to mention, but part of the REUNITE THE FAMILY plan was for me to move out and take anger management/child nurturing classes, etc. I hear a knock at the front door and I wake up. I hear my friend say something like "Oh, I didn`t think this was a possibility." Footsteps. A knock at my door and a man comes in and says "Mr. Javier, please get dressed. You`re under arrest:" The fucker turns the light on and in my blurry vision I see him, and next to him the head CPS agent on my case. She says "You`re gonna do time and then you`re going BACK!" "Back" refering to me being deported. Fucking whore.
So I stand up and tell her "I`m sure." The fucking officer pulls his gun on me. Back in those days I was 280, fat as hell but powerlifting. I tell him to relax, that I just want to put a shirt on. Throughout the course of this the CPS woman says more but I ignore her. Eventually she leaves.Then I ask the officer if he`s gonna handcuff me, he says yes. I ask him if I can bring my wallet, he says go ahead. Nonchalantly I ask him how long it`ll take me to get released, he says probably the next day. Not sure if was talking out of his ass or if he just didn`t want to break the truth to me in order to keep me calm. As he leads me out of the apartment I look at my friend in the living room and I tell him "Tell the boss I should be able to go to work tomorrow... This shouldn`t take long." Little did I know what lay ahead for me.
More later on. Tomorrow is Guatemalan Independence day, so I don`t know when these damned internet cafes will open up shop again. I`m just curious when this country will win independence from it`s own corrupt government.
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