Yesterday was a good day.  For the first time in over a year, we saw our son in person and were able to hug him.  The feeling can't be explained.

It was a cold and dreary day.  We drove miles into nowhere before seeing the sign that announced "Bledsoe County Correctional Complex". The buildings were cold grey concrete with a splash of yellow on the facade that seemed out of place.  It looked welcoming.  There were several concrete buildings and they were all surrounded by fences that were taller than any human should be able to climb.  But should anyone consider it, one look at the loops of razor sharp barbed wire at the top would cause a second thought.

When we arrived they were doing "count".  Turns out that four times a day they count every inmate.  Everything shuts down during this time.  So we waited.  After waiting over a year and a three and a half hour drive, what's a few more minutes.  When their count was verified they begin processing the visitors.

They took our ID and noted who we were visiting in a large hard-back blue notebook.  It struck me as odd that in this age of technology they would use such an old-fashioned method.  The sergeant had beautiful handwriting and she took her time scripting the date, my name, my son's name, and our relationship.  Next we put our coats and shoes into a bin to be scanned while we were escorted into a room to be patted down.  You can't take in ANYTHING.  Our hand was stamped with invisible ink that would later show up under a black light to indicate we were approved visitors.  Then we started our walk down a hall that was easily the distance of our walk in from the parking lot.  Three heavy automatic doors later we entered the visitor's area.

The room had one wall of windows showcasing the cold and snowy day.  There were grey padded chairs throughout the large room and the guard indicated where we should sit.  We scanned the faces as we moved to our seats, but didn't see our boy yet.  In taking in the room, we noticed restrooms marked visitors and others marked inmates.  There were several small rooms to one side marked visitation, but no one seemed to be in them.  Children played in a glassed playroom that was filled with toys. A television played some kind of cartoon that none of them watched.  We also noted a wide array of vending machines that seemed to have everything from sandwiches, burritos and pizza to ice cream and pie.

We were so busy checking our surroundings, that we didn't even notice our son creep up behind us.  What a surprise!  And even better, one of the best hugs I've ever had in my life.

So we talked, hugged, held hands and spend over two hours having conversations that belied the fact we were sitting in a prison in the middle of nowhere with other families who were going through similar trials.  And when I looked around, I wondered about their stories.  But today was about our family seeing our son and pretending, for a short time, that everything was fine.

To be continued...

A bit of good news - we take it where we can get it.

My son finally got his eye exam and we received his prescription in the mail.  My husband rushed out to purchase glasses so they could be put in the mail to him.  He's now been wandering around blind for about four weeks.  Truly.  His vision without glasses is about 20/400.  We did our part now I hope they get the glasses to him asap.

AND we were all "approved" to visit.  As if there was any doubt.  But we jumped through the hoops and made it.  But, we can't visit just yet.  Even though he has been classified, it's not showing up in the computer system yet.  Until that happens, it would be a wasted trip.  We can call back the end of the week to check if the paperwork has gone through.  As soon as it does, we'll take a Saturday or Sunday and drive down.  We haven't seen him in a month so it will be good to actually see his face.

But the other big "if" is another move.  It could happen anytime - or not.  Hopefully he will at least get his glasses before then.  It would be great if we get to see him before then.  If he gets moved, we have to reapply for visitation.  So many hoops.

To be continued...

Never underestimate where your support will come from.

When all of this happened, we really struggled with this.  We have very supportive family and friends and we have a wonderful church family.  But, having a family member go to prison has the potential to stretch those boundaries.  At least, in your mind.  It was so surprising to us how non-judgmental people were.  They really truly acknowledged that, as parents, you do the best you can do while realizing the existence of free will.

The support we continue to receive humbles us.  We have had family and church members at all the court appearances and at visitations.  They write to our son, talk to him on the phone when possible, pray for him and continually ask about him.  And in the midst of all this, they check on us.  Throughout what has been one of the most horrible ordeals imaginable, we have never felt anything but loved.

Are there people who are out there judging us?  I'm sure there are but they haven't said anything.  At least the negativity has stayed with them which is where it belongs.  We don't need people pointing out everything we have already asked ourselves, including "Where did we go wrong?"  Those questions don't go away.  We are still reflecting back and asking ourselves The Big Question.

But what is important is that people care.  Give them the chance to show you they care.  This is an impossible thing to go through alone - so don't.  You don't have to.  Allow others inside.  I promise it will be worth it.  And without support, you could easily go crazy.

To be continued...

Back to the present.  We're settling into our next new normal.  We can't visit for now because the State of TN requires that everyone who visits submit an application and undergo a background check.  That's okay.  It seems reasonable.  The unreasonable part?  They review applications "periodically" but at least "once per quarter."  So, somewhere between today and four months from now we may be able to visit.

The visit excites us.  While in county jail, our visits were limited to a poor quality closed-circuit tv that made our son appear green and a telephone that didn't always work.  Once he completes the classification process in state prison, we actually get to see him in person and can even plan picnics for their outside picnic plaza.  Wow!  Terribly exciting since we haven't seen him in person in over a year.  Well, other than the times we saw him court wearing orange and handcuffed.  That's another story.

He still calls us almost daily and it's the highlight of our day.  He seems happier.  He says the food is better and he's not cold anymore.  While in county jail, he always complained of being cold and had only one blanket on his bed.  He says the beds are better and they have two blankets so he's sleeping better.

As a part of "intake", prisoners receive a full work-up including medical, dental and psychological.  His medical and dental went well and he has been given clearance to perform any job in the prison.  He still can't see.  Contacts aren't allowed - we don't why and can't seem to find out.  They don't know when he can get glasses.  Since he's as blind as him mama trying to navigate the stairway in the dark, this is a problem.  We'd send him glasses but they would probably not let him have them since they are wire rims.  The saga continues for the near future.

I've said there are worse things than jail, but I'm not sure there's much worse than county jail.  When worrying about prison vs. county jail, we were told to consider the difference between jail in Mayberry and the Shawshank Redemption.  With what we experienced, the UC jail was much more like Shawshank Redeption than Bledsoe County CC.  I'm not sure Mayberry even exists today.

We now anxiously await what's to come.  After classification, he will be eligible for work and classes.  That sounds promising.  But knowing what we now know, that could be months away.

To be continued...

The doorbell rang and I walked down the stairs.  As soon as I saw the police car in my driveway, I knew.  The detective introduced himself.  He was very nice.  He asked if I had heard about the incident down the road.  I had.  Everybody had.  It was all over the news - tv, radio, newspapers.  We chatted about my son.  Did I know where he was that night.  I did not.  He showed me a hat - but it wasn't one I recognized.  He stayed on my front porch for 20 minutes easily.  "Give me a call if you can think of anything," he said as he handed me his card.  But at that point, I knew a lot.  That stone that had been sitting in my stomach the past few days jumped into my throat.  I knew what the "stupid" thing was.

18 is a terrible age.  Legally, you become an adult.  But, there's nothing adult about most 18 year olds.  There's too much child left in the adult bodies.  They've not had to be truly "responsible".  They expect the lights to come on when they flip a switch.  They expect snacks in the cabinet.  They don't understand what it takes to make those things happen.  My son turned 18 in October and it was a nightmare just keeping him in school until December.  It was an accomplishment that he received his diploma even if he did refuse to walk through the ceremony - not even for his mama.  After he graduated, he drifted.  He worked some but had trouble keeping a job.  He started technical school but dropped out.  Then he started going missing for days at a time.  December age 18 to December age 19 was a year that seemed to go on for ten years.  How do you "fix" a broken teenager who thinks he knows everything and who believes he is bulletproof?

Then the call came.  I answer my cell at work and my husband says, "It's over.  They got him."  I hate to say there was relief, but there was.  It was the sound of the other shoe dropping.  And now there would be no more disappearing.  We would know his whereabouts and could rest in the knowledge there was a roof over his head and food in his stomach.  There are worse things than jail.

And maybe, maybe this is what was needed to save him before it was too late.

I hope.

To be continued...

Packs of boys running together are not usually a good idea.  Boys who would never act on an idea alone are suddenly infused with bravery (or stupidity).  At the ages of 18, 19, 20 and sometimes longer - they are bulletproof.  Or so they believe.

And such it was on that fateful night when four boys decided to extract revenge on the family that dared to fire one of them from his job.  Did the family have cause for firing the young man?  Yes, but that was irrelevant to him and his three friends.  These people have money and a part of that money was rightfully his. And so they planned.

The plan was to ambush the woman as she came home, force her into the house, then coerce the combination from the safe from her.  Two of them would go in and be "the muscle".  Two would wait outside, watch, and have the getaway vehicle ready.  But one of the young men teetered on the brink of sanity and refused to go inside.  He said he would wait, but he wouldn't go in.  And so my young man, a faithful friend, stepped up.

They did as they planned.  They forced the woman into the house, duct taped her to a chair and threatened to kill her husband if she didn't turn over the combination.  The flaw in the plan was that she did not know the combination.  She said they would just have to kill him because she couldn't tell them what she did not know.  The larger young man went through the house looking for anything else that might be valuable.  My young man stayed behind and reassured the woman.  In the end, they left with nothing.  Nothing except guilty consciences.

They went their separate ways and began the agonizing process of waiting.  Waiting for what would happen next.  Waiting for friends, families, and the police to find out what they did.  What was supposed to be revenge and a payoff for the out-of-work friend had backfired and they were left with nothing.

My son came home that night and said, "I did something stupid, Mama."  But that's all he would say.  Stupid to a 19 year old can mean almost anything.  And so I was drawn into the waiting.  Waiting to see what stupid thing he had done.  Hoping it was something trivial.  But, my baby with a big heart who would do anything for a friend had crossed the line and our futures had been changed.  We just didn't know it yet.

To be continued...

I grew up believing law enforcement personnel were above reproach.  I know that was probably naive, but I had no idea how naive.

If you or a loved one is ever questioned or taken into custody, immediately clam up and say nothing beyond "I would like to see my attorney."  They will promise you anything.  "It's off the record." (It isn't.)  "If you cooperate it will be easier on you later." (It won't be.)  "We'll speak on your behalf to tell how much help you've been on this case."  (Ha.)  "We'll keep you posted on the status of your son's incarceration arrangements and call you before anything happens."  (Double ha.)

There is only one thing you can believe.  "Anything you say can and will be held against you."  It doesn't matter if you cooperated.  It doesn't matter if you opened your soul and told them everything of your own free will.  It doesn't matter if your information gave them insight they didn't have before.  They are not your friends and it will ALL be held against you.  Say nothing.  Speak only to your attorney.

I recently enjoyed watching The Judge starring Robert Downey, Jr. and Robert Duval.  I found insights I would never have had before.  And when RDJ spoke the line "If you don't talk, you might walk" it was an epiphany.

Too many people in law enforcement have power issues.  This is important to remember because it leads to all the above.  Yes, there are good people out there.  I have met a few of them.  But it is impossible to tell which type you are dealing with until it's too late.

"I have nothing to say until I speak to my attorney."

Smile.

Repeat if necessary but say nothing else.

To be continued...