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...

I should have started writing a year ago. Writing helps. My thought is that the writing helps me and doing a blog may also help others. I didn't start a year ago because it wasn't real. Today it became very real, very fast.

 My son was moved to the state prison in Bledsoe County, TN, today without our knowledge. We went for our weekly visit and he was gone. The day after Christmas. The sheriff and head prison guard even state "it's their policy" to let families know, but "it's a holiday and we're short handed." "We forgot." "We're terribly sorry." Blah, blah, blah. They moved my son the day after Christmas and didn't have the courtesy to let us know. We find out when the disembodied voice comes through the barely serviceable intercom system to say "He's not here. You'll have to call on Monday." Call on Monday.

 Are these people with no children of their own? Would they sit and wait through three endless nights and two agonizing days to find out where their child had been sent? I know he's a prisoner. I know he's done wrong and is where he belongs - but he's mine. The decision to start calling people at home while they were on their own time was an easy one. I hate to bother you at home (Lie. No I don't), but we need some answers. And so now we know where he is. I don't why that's comforting, but it is. And at this moment I'm glad he's anywhere but the hole-in-wall county jail where no one even cared enough to call. It didn't matter that the head guard has known him since he was eight. But Mr. Sheriff, you've got bigger problems than your staff not following your "protocol". You've lost this family's votes.

 So this is a start. There will be more. There will be backstory and there will be the continuing story.

 To be continued...