Upon awakening from small spurts of sleep I quickly brushed my teeth, washed my face and headed to the jail. Still in the clothes I wore to court and slept in. John drove, and we delivered Drew’s medications. We lucked up. Finally. We had come on a visiting day and my husband and I were asked if we would like to visit with him. YES! Through a thick glass window, but we would be allowed to “visit”, so we took a seat and waited. I was looking forward to seeing him…until I saw him.
His eyes were swollen and red, still crying uncontrollably, and he was wearing a red jumpsuit. Red is reserved for dangerous people, and means you are housed in the pod reserved for dangerous felons. He was scared, sad and confused. He was in shock. We talked through the glass on the phone, the kind you see in movies. The kind you never imagine you’ll ever be using to talk to your own child. I just wanted to hug him and promise things I could no longer promise.
There were no jokes or light moments. His face was empty. We didn’t talk a lot. He just wanted to look at us. The three of us mostly just cried. He didn’t want us to leave. But our visiting time was over.
I placed my hand on the glass. He pressed his hand against my hand, the thick glass window preventing us from contact. I assured him we would be filing an appeal as soon as possible, and asked him to stay strong.
I knew as I walked across the parking lot to our car that I would get my son out of there. I would. Somehow and legally. But I would get him out of there.
His case is under appeal. He is home on a freedom bond. We are fighting for his life. In addition to being on the autism spectrum and the anxiety that comes with autism, he now suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the jail and legal experience, fear of going to prison, and being taken away from his family and home. He currently has panic attacks every day.
As hard as it is to read through the transcripts and relive it all so vividly, my next post will begin to walk you through the details.