Do not let your hearts be troubled.
Trust in God; trust also in me.
~John 14:1
On August 13th I woke up thinking the end to a very long nightmare would soon be over. I kissed my daughters goodbye the night before and told them I would see them in a couple of days. My daddy, momma and I loaded up in the car and set off to Colorado once again. We were all anxious to close the book on this chapter.
I was to report to the courthouse at 1:00 p.m. on August 14th for my sentencing. We stopped at Taco Bell, which was 1 block over from the courthouse, to grab a quick bite before I went to my sentencing hearing (if I had only known this would be the last meal I would eat in the free world for a month or so....I would have made much different choices).
I ask my parents to wait in the hallway, as I just could not stomach the thought of them seeing me facing the judge while he dealt out a sentence to me. I kissed them both and told them I would see them in just a bit. I walk in knowing full well that I would carry a felony record with me the rest of my life, but I was going to be absolutely fine. I would not be going to prison, I still had a lucrative career, the support of my family and this would finally be over.
Throughout my day in court, my attorney and the DA bantered back and forth. They had several conversations about me over the last 9 months or so. They had argued back and forth over timelines, bank accounts, character (my character, the character of #1 stepson and consultant #3), they had shared tons of evidence and opinions with one another. During these discussions (arguments) some truths from my side had come to the surface. However, my attorney never tipped all the cards in our hand to the DA just in case things went to trial. Now on sentencing day all of my cards are out on the table. At last real truths were coming out! Even though I had plead guilty, I felt like MY side of the story was finally coming to light!
I had never once thought that jail was a possibility for me. I cannot recall a single time my attorney mentioned to me that I might have to go to jail. He said there would be no prison time and I just assumed that meant jail time as well. With that being said, you can imagine my horror when the DA tells the judge that she recommends 180 days in jail! I look at my attorney with my eyes as wide as they could open, as if to say, she's kidding--right? He simply pats my hand and redirects me eyes to the judge with a nod of his head and a raising of his eyebrows. The probation office in their pre-sentencing report suggest a suspended 180 days. The judge lands in the middle and gives me 50 days.
It is now 3:00 p.m. and my attorney asks if I can report to the jail at 5:00 p.m. The DA states "This is sentencing day. Your client should have been prepared for sentencing. I ask the court to not allow the 2 hour delayed reporting." The judge agrees and with that a deputy comes in handcuffs me and prepares to take me out of the courtroom. I ask my attorney if I can speak to my parents and he says "I am afraid not." In the blink of an eye I am whisked out of the courtroom into a small little room where I will sit and wait until court is over.
My attorney had to go out into the hall and break the news to my parents. None of us had any idea that this could actually happen. I can only imagine what they thought. I am certain the emotions were all consuming. I have no words for how devastating this must have been. My poor parents waiting for me to emerge from the courtroom in anticipation of a celebration dinner that this was over and then to head home. Instead, they are making phone calls to my family, my boss and a few others telling them this horrible news. This turn of events that we never expected.
I am sitting there on a bench in the tiny room just outside the courtroom doors. I'm thinking, I should be crying. I should be scared. I should be devastated. I should be angry. I should, I should, I should. However, I am calm. I am at peace. I am not afraid. I am okay. I completely accept this fact. I feel God's presence. Okay God, here we go! I told You I would take you with me anywhere, so let's do this.
My heart does ache because I know my family is probably not as calm as I am about this whole situation. I know my parents, my kids, my sister are all most likely crying and worrying about me. Oh, how I wished I could just let them know that I was okay. That I was going to be fine. That even though I would miss them, God was going with me. Hand in hand we were going to tackle this.
This was all GOD and His MERCY! My typical reaction would have been terror! I would have been so scared and afraid. I would have been a complete basket case. I would have been in a puddle on the floor unable to stand.
Other than worrying about my family, the hardest thing for me to wrap my brain around was the word jail. I didn't want my family talking about jail. Being in jail wasn't something I could say about myself. I decided I would call it camp. That made it easier. I could say camp without crying. Jail......made my eyes swell with tears. Camp, was just a little time away. (and now the title of this little blog, 'campfires and promises' makes a little more sense)
Court is adjourned and a deputy comes to take me to booking where I go through the same process as that early morning in November. I answer lots of questions, surrender my clothing in exchange for a black and white striped jumpsuit, have my picture taken, leave my finger prints on a little red light pad, suck on a swab of foam until it is full of my saliva. I am told I can get any phone numbers I need out of my phone, but I cannot text or call anyone.
As I am signing some papers, I look up and I see my parents. They are there to pick up my jewelry and drop off my glasses. I wave and smile the biggest smile I can to encourage them. I want them to know I am okay. I ask if I can speak to them. My request is denied. So close, yet so far away.
After all the paperwork and such is completed, I am taken back to that tiny little cell tucked away in the back corner with the heavy door that has only a small window and a horizontal slot. This time I am given a blanket, a mat and an empty rubber cup. This little rubber cup has an awful smell, I don't think I will ever forget the smell. I can't really explain it. It is just gross. Everything I drink from this cup tastes just like the smell.
I am told I will be in this cell for the night and will hopefully be moved to the women's pod the next day. I can't make any phone calls until I get to the pod and can order commissary. If you have never been to camp, commissary is where you buy things you need while camping......the 'good' shampoo and conditioner, lotion, snacks, phone minutes, stamps, paper, coupons for ice cream or soda and so on. This means it will be at least 24 hours before I can tell my family I'm okay. Tell them not to be sad for me. Tell them to just keep praying and we will all be just fine. Tell them.......be still.......
You don't get under garments until you are moved to the pod. I am not sure why this is a rule but it is. Camp has lots of rules that don't make much sense. Let me just vent a little here........
At this particular camp, in the men's holding area, all the men are in 2 big rooms with floor to ceiling windows. There is a TV hanging in the corner and a small half wall that blocks off the toilet. For women, each woman is sent to an individual cell with a big heavy door with a window for deputies and other employees to peak through without any notice. The cell has a toilet that is not secluded in any fashion. A woman must fully undress by pulling her jumpsuit down with no undergarments to hide any exposed body parts to use the toilet. There is no protective half wall to hide any part of her. There is no TV and no one to talk to. A lot of things at camp, I don't understand.
I didn't sleep much that night. It was cold, lonely, uncomfortable, I desperately needed to pee and I was worried about my family. God and I talked off and on throughout the night. It was long, but not unbearable.
I finally got the nerve to undress and use the restroom just after the deputy made his 15 minute check. Just as I get my jumpsuit down around my ankles and I am sitting on this stainless steel toilet with no seat, a man peaks his head in my window. He quickly averts his eyes and steps back. I am grateful he didn't just stand there and gawk at my basically naked awkwardness. He gives me plenty of time to get myself put back together and finally peaks in again. He slides a piece of paper under the door for me to fill out. It is the last little bit of paperwork to fill out before I join the other campers in the pod. I fill it out and return it to him. He returns shortly and tells me there is a back up in the system and it will be quite awhile before I get to go to the pod. He takes me from this lonely cell and moves me and another woman to one of the 2 rooms normally designated for men.
The woman in this room with me is wild eyed, her hair is a rat's nest and she is constantly walking up to the window yelling obscenities at the lady at the booking desk. Oh joy! I just thought it would be better to have someone to talk to and a TV to watch. Careful what you wish for!
After several hours another young girl joins us in this room. She is crying and nervous. I recognize her as the cousin to my #2 stepdaughter's boyfriend. She has been at my house several times. She does not recognize me. I start up a conversation with her and tell her who I am. You can see she is a little more at ease and she is not wailing any longer. She has been arrested for under age drinking and unlawful entry into a residence. Soon the wild-eyed girl joins our conversation and she also seems to calm down a bit.
My attorney comes to check on me. I am so grateful to see a friendly face. He is going to relay a message to my family for me and also tell them how to put money on my 'books' so I can buy phone minutes and such from commissary once I get to the pod. Thank You Jesus, my family is going to know I am okay! He also tells me the newspaper had another article about me. I roll my eyes. He then tells me that the reporter actually reported some of my statements, has mentioned that 4 of the charges have been dropped and reports some of my truths. He still writes unflattering things, but at least he has a little bit of my story in the article.
It is several more hours before I go to the pod. Walking into this area is the first time I felt fear. I walk in during a time when the women are all out in a activity area. There are 23 women in the room. 23 sets of eyes watching as I am escorted in. Some look a little rough, some smile at me, some just stare. Deep breath, this is going to be fine. I am shown to my bunkhouse (cell), and read a few rules. I am then told I can join the other ladies if I wish.
This bunkhouse has a bunk bed, a small desk, a toilet without a seat.....but it does have a privacy wall, a sink, a bar covered window at the very top of the wall just above the top bunk and a big heavy door with a small window. The mat on this bed is a bit thicker than the one I had received the night before, but still no pillow. I am issued a set of sheets, 2 blankets, a plastic coffee mug (this one does not smell), a tiny toothbrush (no toothpaste), a tiny pen that is really just the refill part you put into an actual pen (I will later learn to use the open end of this pen refill as tweezers), a pair of undies, a sports bra, a pair of socks, a bucket to store my stuff in and an ID card with my booking number and my lovely mug shot.
This is going to be a long 50 days, but I can do it!
You really do rough it at camp.
New girl on the block.....cell block that is.
Sweet Jesus, don't leave me now.
I had never once thought that jail was a possibility for me. I cannot recall a single time my attorney mentioned to me that I might have to go to jail. He said there would be no prison time and I just assumed that meant jail time as well. With that being said, you can imagine my horror when the DA tells the judge that she recommends 180 days in jail! I look at my attorney with my eyes as wide as they could open, as if to say, she's kidding--right? He simply pats my hand and redirects me eyes to the judge with a nod of his head and a raising of his eyebrows. The probation office in their pre-sentencing report suggest a suspended 180 days. The judge lands in the middle and gives me 50 days.
It is now 3:00 p.m. and my attorney asks if I can report to the jail at 5:00 p.m. The DA states "This is sentencing day. Your client should have been prepared for sentencing. I ask the court to not allow the 2 hour delayed reporting." The judge agrees and with that a deputy comes in handcuffs me and prepares to take me out of the courtroom. I ask my attorney if I can speak to my parents and he says "I am afraid not." In the blink of an eye I am whisked out of the courtroom into a small little room where I will sit and wait until court is over.
My attorney had to go out into the hall and break the news to my parents. None of us had any idea that this could actually happen. I can only imagine what they thought. I am certain the emotions were all consuming. I have no words for how devastating this must have been. My poor parents waiting for me to emerge from the courtroom in anticipation of a celebration dinner that this was over and then to head home. Instead, they are making phone calls to my family, my boss and a few others telling them this horrible news. This turn of events that we never expected.
I am sitting there on a bench in the tiny room just outside the courtroom doors. I'm thinking, I should be crying. I should be scared. I should be devastated. I should be angry. I should, I should, I should. However, I am calm. I am at peace. I am not afraid. I am okay. I completely accept this fact. I feel God's presence. Okay God, here we go! I told You I would take you with me anywhere, so let's do this.
My heart does ache because I know my family is probably not as calm as I am about this whole situation. I know my parents, my kids, my sister are all most likely crying and worrying about me. Oh, how I wished I could just let them know that I was okay. That I was going to be fine. That even though I would miss them, God was going with me. Hand in hand we were going to tackle this.
This was all GOD and His MERCY! My typical reaction would have been terror! I would have been so scared and afraid. I would have been a complete basket case. I would have been in a puddle on the floor unable to stand.
Other than worrying about my family, the hardest thing for me to wrap my brain around was the word jail. I didn't want my family talking about jail. Being in jail wasn't something I could say about myself. I decided I would call it camp. That made it easier. I could say camp without crying. Jail......made my eyes swell with tears. Camp, was just a little time away. (and now the title of this little blog, 'campfires and promises' makes a little more sense)
Court is adjourned and a deputy comes to take me to booking where I go through the same process as that early morning in November. I answer lots of questions, surrender my clothing in exchange for a black and white striped jumpsuit, have my picture taken, leave my finger prints on a little red light pad, suck on a swab of foam until it is full of my saliva. I am told I can get any phone numbers I need out of my phone, but I cannot text or call anyone.
As I am signing some papers, I look up and I see my parents. They are there to pick up my jewelry and drop off my glasses. I wave and smile the biggest smile I can to encourage them. I want them to know I am okay. I ask if I can speak to them. My request is denied. So close, yet so far away.
After all the paperwork and such is completed, I am taken back to that tiny little cell tucked away in the back corner with the heavy door that has only a small window and a horizontal slot. This time I am given a blanket, a mat and an empty rubber cup. This little rubber cup has an awful smell, I don't think I will ever forget the smell. I can't really explain it. It is just gross. Everything I drink from this cup tastes just like the smell.
I am told I will be in this cell for the night and will hopefully be moved to the women's pod the next day. I can't make any phone calls until I get to the pod and can order commissary. If you have never been to camp, commissary is where you buy things you need while camping......the 'good' shampoo and conditioner, lotion, snacks, phone minutes, stamps, paper, coupons for ice cream or soda and so on. This means it will be at least 24 hours before I can tell my family I'm okay. Tell them not to be sad for me. Tell them to just keep praying and we will all be just fine. Tell them.......be still.......
You don't get under garments until you are moved to the pod. I am not sure why this is a rule but it is. Camp has lots of rules that don't make much sense. Let me just vent a little here........
At this particular camp, in the men's holding area, all the men are in 2 big rooms with floor to ceiling windows. There is a TV hanging in the corner and a small half wall that blocks off the toilet. For women, each woman is sent to an individual cell with a big heavy door with a window for deputies and other employees to peak through without any notice. The cell has a toilet that is not secluded in any fashion. A woman must fully undress by pulling her jumpsuit down with no undergarments to hide any exposed body parts to use the toilet. There is no protective half wall to hide any part of her. There is no TV and no one to talk to. A lot of things at camp, I don't understand.
I didn't sleep much that night. It was cold, lonely, uncomfortable, I desperately needed to pee and I was worried about my family. God and I talked off and on throughout the night. It was long, but not unbearable.
I finally got the nerve to undress and use the restroom just after the deputy made his 15 minute check. Just as I get my jumpsuit down around my ankles and I am sitting on this stainless steel toilet with no seat, a man peaks his head in my window. He quickly averts his eyes and steps back. I am grateful he didn't just stand there and gawk at my basically naked awkwardness. He gives me plenty of time to get myself put back together and finally peaks in again. He slides a piece of paper under the door for me to fill out. It is the last little bit of paperwork to fill out before I join the other campers in the pod. I fill it out and return it to him. He returns shortly and tells me there is a back up in the system and it will be quite awhile before I get to go to the pod. He takes me from this lonely cell and moves me and another woman to one of the 2 rooms normally designated for men.
The woman in this room with me is wild eyed, her hair is a rat's nest and she is constantly walking up to the window yelling obscenities at the lady at the booking desk. Oh joy! I just thought it would be better to have someone to talk to and a TV to watch. Careful what you wish for!
After several hours another young girl joins us in this room. She is crying and nervous. I recognize her as the cousin to my #2 stepdaughter's boyfriend. She has been at my house several times. She does not recognize me. I start up a conversation with her and tell her who I am. You can see she is a little more at ease and she is not wailing any longer. She has been arrested for under age drinking and unlawful entry into a residence. Soon the wild-eyed girl joins our conversation and she also seems to calm down a bit.
My attorney comes to check on me. I am so grateful to see a friendly face. He is going to relay a message to my family for me and also tell them how to put money on my 'books' so I can buy phone minutes and such from commissary once I get to the pod. Thank You Jesus, my family is going to know I am okay! He also tells me the newspaper had another article about me. I roll my eyes. He then tells me that the reporter actually reported some of my statements, has mentioned that 4 of the charges have been dropped and reports some of my truths. He still writes unflattering things, but at least he has a little bit of my story in the article.
It is several more hours before I go to the pod. Walking into this area is the first time I felt fear. I walk in during a time when the women are all out in a activity area. There are 23 women in the room. 23 sets of eyes watching as I am escorted in. Some look a little rough, some smile at me, some just stare. Deep breath, this is going to be fine. I am shown to my bunkhouse (cell), and read a few rules. I am then told I can join the other ladies if I wish.
This bunkhouse has a bunk bed, a small desk, a toilet without a seat.....but it does have a privacy wall, a sink, a bar covered window at the very top of the wall just above the top bunk and a big heavy door with a small window. The mat on this bed is a bit thicker than the one I had received the night before, but still no pillow. I am issued a set of sheets, 2 blankets, a plastic coffee mug (this one does not smell), a tiny toothbrush (no toothpaste), a tiny pen that is really just the refill part you put into an actual pen (I will later learn to use the open end of this pen refill as tweezers), a pair of undies, a sports bra, a pair of socks, a bucket to store my stuff in and an ID card with my booking number and my lovely mug shot.
This is going to be a long 50 days, but I can do it!
You really do rough it at camp.
New girl on the block.....cell block that is.
Sweet Jesus, don't leave me now.
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