Tuesday, September 5, 2006
It was Probation Report day. PO Long apologized again. "It's just what they're doing now, soon they'll be registering people for J-walking." He shook his head and filled out Karl's DNA registration form. Go over to the 210 building to the 10th floor. Karl was sent to register his DNA, a new act of Governor Pataki's All Crimes Act. Something as low as Class A Misdemeanor, Assualt 3 is now added as of June 2006. According to Ah Ro Ghant, his office, Criminal Appeals, is trying to fight this as an invasion of privacy.
Shortly after going through the scanner and flipping through his magazine, Karl's name was called. He followed the man with the dreads and rubber gloves and took a seat in his office. Karl looked around at teh stalls with signs and let out a little laugh. "What's so funny?" asked Mr. X. as he put on new gloves. Your sign over the stall "Ladies if you did not clean your Kitty Kat we will not test you." He laughed along, "yeah we get all kinds here".
He prepared Karl's papers and swab pad. I need you to swab both cheeks. Karl pulled to swab out and held it to his face. "No! the inside of you mouth." laughed Mr. X. "Hey didn't I give you a drug test a while back?" "Oh, yeah February. You remeber me from then?" replied Karl removing the sponge end to speak. "Yeah it's your last name, unusual, like mine. I pronounced it correctly didn't I?" Still swabbing Karl nodded yes and mumbled "Cloffe ebough."
Karl was finger printed again, then he wiped the ink from his index fingers clean.
"So what happens with my DNA information?"
"You are permanently on record. It works in your favor, you didn't test positive for drugs the last time."
"Yeah why start now."
He made a copy of the work form and handed it to Karl. "Don't lose this."
CATCHING UP
We do live in odd times indeed. Eminent domain, 9/11 conspriracies, odd weather, a tiem for war, swabbing, and all. On July 20, Waldo McBard finally showed up to be deposed. he missed teh last two dates. He whined about the deposition takling too long and wrung his hands a lot. I wonder if he knew he was about to blow Ms. Sciocco's case wide open. But that's a story for another day. He tried to stick to the story they made up in the ambulance, which quickly fell apart. With much protesting from his lawyer, we found he's been on Antidepressants since he was a high school sophomore. SSRI drug and booze just don't mix. My Attoney W--- took him apart. The boy looked like a scared child, but as W--- often says "That's his problem, not yours." I was told later that I was unbreakable. Well if you survive court procedures long enogh you becoem bullet proof. The next few months should prove to be interesting.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Civilly Courting Danger
Carl read over the e-mail from his attorney W---. It was a notification about his depsotion date. This has been the first sign of movement since Ms. Siocco's deposition on April 12, 2006.
Carl,Don't get yourself worked up about your Misdemeanor Plea. Trust me, Sciocco's attorney wil not vocate your plea based on your civil testimony, it is to their advantage that you pled guilty and they will not challenge it... Perjury for you is not an issue. Your plea was based on options made available to you in Criminal Court. One of the requirements of your plea was to admit guilt. Just tell the truth. Mark this date on your calendar. Your deposition (and Mr. McBard's) will be on Wednesday, July 12, 2006.Cheers, W---
July 12??? Come on, is Mr. McBard trying to get a tan before the deposition? I'd like to see how that cow-eyed poet looks when he lies. Will he at least admit that he had the worst sex he'd ever had in his life on that odd summer night night of 2004? Chirst! That must have been like screwing a rotten pumpkin. If I could've been be a fly on the wall... I bet he gets all sweaty under his arms. I bet his skin gets all sticky like a catfish.
I'm not allowed to look at him during the depostion but you know I'll be wishing him cancer the whole time. Not the cancer that my father had, slow and determined as it was. Maybe something more agressively that eats away at his face. And Ms. Sciooco? How does one put a curse on a curse?
Oi vey gevault. I Remember Sentencing Day...
I didn't sleep the ngiht before, I had to respond before 9:00 am if I were to take this guilty plea. Conflicted, I must have vomitted about six times if not more. A-----, my attorney, called repeatedly. Then his wife called. Then my first lawyer, D-----called. I called a few freinds for support. Then I called Larry, my brother. He called me a chicken. Then I called Ah Ro Ghant, he is an appeals lawyer and sixth level ranger. "So, do you think this is a good deal? It went from a Felony C with jail time to a Class A misdemeanor, Assault 3." I asked him in a cloud of confusion. "Carl, that's unheard of, going from a felony to a misdemeanor. It's not a bad plea. I think you should take it, rather than risk trial."
I unhooked the phone for a bit to collect my thoughts. Too much to handle at 7:30 am. Too much. I called A---- back, told him I'd take the Misdemeanor Plea. I shaved and showered to get the smell of vomit off me, put on the trial sweater that I had knit in court and caught my train.
I wasn't that good at knitting at first, but I improved over term of Criminal Court. I started knitting to quit smoking after September 11. I knitted through the entire discovery period (6 months and more) until I was told by the judge I should not be doing such. So I learned to crochet at some point as we went to trial.
What a day that was. DA G------ didn't show up, she sent another colleague, who sported the home-streaked hair (darling, that bleach wand is not made of magic). The thought of admitting to something I didn't do felt like a hot knife thrusting into my temple, and exiting through my mouth.
"I intentionally sought to hurt Ms. Sciocco." I said holding on to the chair. "How?" asked the judge. "By biting her finger." Then the judge threw in Anger Management for good measure. A----- and the other DA argued back and forth, then the judge yelled "Enough! There will be no appeal!" I forgot that my freinds were sitting behind me. I kept looking at the spittle that sprayed from the judges mouth and the DA's pointy hoof that intermitently peeked from her kaftan legs as she argued that I should also get jail time. My mind went elsewhere, I thought of places I'd never been, England... France... Montana... I couldn't hear A----- and the DA anymore. They ran back and forth the judge pointing at each other, gesturing in my direction. I knew it was over when a court official handed me papers to sign.
Afterwards, I walked with my friends to another court building to register myself as some kind of offender, then I peed in a cup with some guy watching over me, and then signed more papers.
Epilogue
Does the court ever reflect on how they can collectively destroy people's lives? Maybe they think of it briefly and then subtract. That must be like blocking out a train wreck. The court seems to serve itself. "Am I a dangerous man??" I ask myself every morning when I shave. Ms. Sciocco's finger is fine, maybe she won't flick the bird as often as she'd like. She lost a nail and it grew back. End of story.
Allusion: If you were in fact a dog, and the courts forced you to admit that you were a cat, you would be liable for Perjury if you barked in public. Locked away. Crazy stuff, eh.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
After Dark
Carl packed his leather satchel quickly, he knocked a few dice off the table with his scimitar. "Hey watch it!" Said Klem Matoh. "You nearly hit Smoog." The dog sized dragon yelped and lept up into the trees. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" screeched Ms. Vickers. "I have to meet Oola" Carl said as he looked aroudn for his sheild. "And why..." she asked. "I'm trying to insure that I don't die alone." replied Carl as he packed his wares. An odd silence loomed over the camp site. "Excellent. he he he..." snickered Ah Ro Ghant waving his sword at Vickers. "See you folks at the Dark Tower later?" Carl threw a bag of pork rinds at Ver Klepmt, on his way out he grabbed some to the victuals that Gobarth prepared for the adventure. Natzzo waved a forboding finger at Carl pointing at the charred stick on the ground. The DM looked blankly at Carl. Something was in the air and it wasn't Smoog.
I meandered through dark streets, past the precinct, heading towards the forbidden zone. I enterred DarkForest and looked around for Oola. I know she can handle herself well but I dodn't like to keep her waiting. I even wore a bit of that Axe body spray that she likes, its scent intensifies with body heat. I guess blind people need to find each other in a crowded room too.
The DM's wife, Katia, was seated at the end of the bar. I waved and joined her for a drink. Katia told me about her night out with workmates, a girl bullying office event. "People can be cruel, but women are worse." She laughed. Soon Oola showed up, she was back from the Ridge. I gave her a hello kiss and got us soemthing to drink. She's been helping a freind's band put some music together. Not long after the DM walked in and slammed the brunt stick in front of Carl. Oola grabbed his hand. He stared passed Carl and took a seat by his wife.
"Stupid Cleric! You burnt the Staff of Healing into a s'more stick! Look at it! It had 72 charges left!" DM was pissed. "Sorry, but Ah Ro Ghant said he was low on hit points. I tried to get him out of the fire pit..." "With the staff of healing?! That's not just a fire pit! It was 9 feet deep and around, it was large enough to roast a cow!" DM interrupted. "Well it might be good, its magic. Right?"
DM slammed the staff aginst the bar again and it crumbled into charcoal bits and black dust. Oola covered our drinks and picked some bits from her hair. "Does that look like it still works?" he asked. "Oh crap, I'm so sorry. I tried to pull Ah Ro Ghant out of the pit and restore hits points at the same time."
Soon the rest walked in to the tavern. "Nice stick, Carl. You gonna sketch me with it?" said Gobarth, motioning as if he were drawing my likeness. Ver Klempt shushed him and tried to smooth things out a bit. In a hushed tone he said "Let me see what I can do, you did have the Cloak of Protection... " "Hey Theif I can hear you from here! That cloak would have been bruned too if he got any closer!" yelled DM taking a sip from his beer. "Hey Vickers, you gonna join us?" Carl asked. "No... if I'm going to die alone, I'll just sit at the end of the bar and drink! I'll kill you while you're sleeping Cleric... and make you come back as a first level Druid so I can kill you again!" she marched off with a horsey gate.
I turned to Oola and said, "Leeeet's... go soon. I didn't do to well tonight." She nodded and grabbed my sheild and leather sack. As we walked out Ah Ro Ghant, Klem Matoh, and Natzzo were still outside smoking. They snickered. Oola and I weaved through the streets under the cover of a night. She dusted some of the charcoal dust from my helmet and hugged me.
I meandered through dark streets, past the precinct, heading towards the forbidden zone. I enterred DarkForest and looked around for Oola. I know she can handle herself well but I dodn't like to keep her waiting. I even wore a bit of that Axe body spray that she likes, its scent intensifies with body heat. I guess blind people need to find each other in a crowded room too.
The DM's wife, Katia, was seated at the end of the bar. I waved and joined her for a drink. Katia told me about her night out with workmates, a girl bullying office event. "People can be cruel, but women are worse." She laughed. Soon Oola showed up, she was back from the Ridge. I gave her a hello kiss and got us soemthing to drink. She's been helping a freind's band put some music together. Not long after the DM walked in and slammed the brunt stick in front of Carl. Oola grabbed his hand. He stared passed Carl and took a seat by his wife.
"Stupid Cleric! You burnt the Staff of Healing into a s'more stick! Look at it! It had 72 charges left!" DM was pissed. "Sorry, but Ah Ro Ghant said he was low on hit points. I tried to get him out of the fire pit..." "With the staff of healing?! That's not just a fire pit! It was 9 feet deep and around, it was large enough to roast a cow!" DM interrupted. "Well it might be good, its magic. Right?"
DM slammed the staff aginst the bar again and it crumbled into charcoal bits and black dust. Oola covered our drinks and picked some bits from her hair. "Does that look like it still works?" he asked. "Oh crap, I'm so sorry. I tried to pull Ah Ro Ghant out of the pit and restore hits points at the same time."
Soon the rest walked in to the tavern. "Nice stick, Carl. You gonna sketch me with it?" said Gobarth, motioning as if he were drawing my likeness. Ver Klempt shushed him and tried to smooth things out a bit. In a hushed tone he said "Let me see what I can do, you did have the Cloak of Protection... " "Hey Theif I can hear you from here! That cloak would have been bruned too if he got any closer!" yelled DM taking a sip from his beer. "Hey Vickers, you gonna join us?" Carl asked. "No... if I'm going to die alone, I'll just sit at the end of the bar and drink! I'll kill you while you're sleeping Cleric... and make you come back as a first level Druid so I can kill you again!" she marched off with a horsey gate.
I turned to Oola and said, "Leeeet's... go soon. I didn't do to well tonight." She nodded and grabbed my sheild and leather sack. As we walked out Ah Ro Ghant, Klem Matoh, and Natzzo were still outside smoking. They snickered. Oola and I weaved through the streets under the cover of a night. She dusted some of the charcoal dust from my helmet and hugged me.
Passing a (Mile)stone
Tuesday, May 23
The spring morning was brisk and full of pollen. Carl put out his cigarette as he approached the Probation Office on Adams street. Rubbing his eyes he noticed that the side street was now blocked off and lined with small blue cafe tables and large cement planters. Martha Stewart must have had her Community Service transfered to Kings County. Karl wondered if this is what they mean by improving the court system.
The waiting room seemed the same. I noticed the female gaurd found a better way to apply her eyebrows. They didn't look like a broken mustache this morning. Last week I ran into N-----, that young woman with the scar over her eye. She was dressed in a complete pink outfit, from her leather coat down to her nails and shoes. She turned off her Ipod and waved at me. She told me that she had been mandated to attend a job fair, even though she's employed (at a pharmacy). "Can you believe this s---? I showed her my taxes and pay stubs... and she still talks down to me, like this is for my own good." She waved her pink talons around in teh air. I can't see N----- putting up drywall as a career.
This morning there were only four of us in the lobby. "Carl?" Mr. L--- waved me in. His eyes were shot from pollen too. I followed him from the lobby, down the path of cubicles, past the copy machine to his office. "So did Community Service ever contact you about my last day?" I aksed. He squinted at his compuer screen and read it to me. "Yeeees. It says here completed on May 6, 2006... 70 hours... Satisfactory... Officer B-----. Looks like you're done."
CS: Saturday, May 6
The last day of CS was actually very uneventful. With weekend changes to all trains Carl ended up heading towards Queens on the G train. He got out and ran around looking for the A train somewhere in Fort Greene. By the time he reached East New York it was 8:15 am.The crew stood around the old grey van as if they were looking at a beached whale. It made a humming noise like Yoko Ono as it leaked a stream of green fluid. A toxic pool had formed at the bottom of the hill near a flock of pigeons with lime green feet. Mr. B----- was on his cell trying to get another van as everyone yelled out advice for 30 minutes or so. "Keep the engine running..." "No, just keep the fan going and shut off the engine..." "That's not break fluid, moron!"
"Can I go now?" Carl got Mr. B-----'s attention by tapping on the windsheild. "This is supposed to be my last day, right?" "Uh, yeah... just sign here and write LD (last day or low down?)." Carl pulled something from his jacket and handed it to Mr. B-----. "I made you a hat." (men's fedora, deep blue mercerized cotton/linen) Carl said handing him back the clip board. "Oh man, thanks Carl" Mr. B----- tried it on "Looks niiiice." Walking towards the train station, Karl waved at the crew and said "Good luck, gentlemen." They all nodded back. Mr. B----- primped his new hat in the side mirror.
I signed Mr. L---'s log sheet. "I've now completed Anger Mangement and Community Service. Will I have one monthly visit at this point?" "Yes, and one home visit and random drug testing. Very good, Carl." As he logged me in and assigned me my next report day I asked him about the tables out front. He laughed. "Last week, a truck delivered a pile of dirt for the planters in the morning, by noon it had a ticket on it."
The pile of dirt was probably booked, arrested, and then released on its own recognizance... pending grand jury of course. If the pile of dirt makes less than 16K a year it can get assistance from legal aid for all court matters. I hope the pile of dirt gets a good lawyer. I imagine DA G------ would accuse the dirt of being menacing and trying to evade arrest.
Eplilogue
I guess this is a milestone. I've completed court mandated tasks. My probation days are down to one per month. Eventually I'll be on the scanner instead of attending probation report days. Lucky me, this should feel special. But as with most birthdays as we get older, things just aren't all that special anymore. I actually don't remember what I did for my birthday last year. I think I was in court looking at a DA with home-dyed hair and judge that could stand to lose 40 pounds.
Regarding Civil Court, I've heard from the trickle upward that Ms. Sciocco and her witness are in a state of panic after her story collapsed under questioning (perjury = jail time). People tell all sorts of crazy stories, but time shows us something else. So far no movement in Civil Court, its now been over a month (since April 12). I'll call W--- again to see if anything has moved in any direction.
The court plays games. I play this game called Senet, a game of movement and consequences. It's the grandfather of backgammon. Every move has a consequence on a board with 30 spaces. You can block the opponent, but you can also block yourself by doing so. Your first move may not be your best. One has to wonder if the plaintiff ever thought about consequnces in court.
My criminal lawyer A---- called me to say that he's ready to move to apeal in Criminal Court after Civil Court. But that last nail has not been pounded into this civil coffin yet. I still have to be deposed along with the plaintiff's missing witness. I've been advised that Criminal Court will resist my appeal every step of the way. It may take up to a year, or when ever the DA "retires" from the case (what ever that means). No DA wants to look THAT bad on record. I was told that she is aware of what has happenned in Civil Court. So, I'll badger it, what do I have to lose.
Last week I called home for Mother's day. Mom is coping well. She's finally considered eventually selling the house and moving into a condo. She informed me that my father's headstone was installed and that my sister ordered solar lights. I explained to her why they only come on at night. We went over her will. I'm glad she's finally making one. Dad's matters are still a mess.
The spring morning was brisk and full of pollen. Carl put out his cigarette as he approached the Probation Office on Adams street. Rubbing his eyes he noticed that the side street was now blocked off and lined with small blue cafe tables and large cement planters. Martha Stewart must have had her Community Service transfered to Kings County. Karl wondered if this is what they mean by improving the court system.
The waiting room seemed the same. I noticed the female gaurd found a better way to apply her eyebrows. They didn't look like a broken mustache this morning. Last week I ran into N-----, that young woman with the scar over her eye. She was dressed in a complete pink outfit, from her leather coat down to her nails and shoes. She turned off her Ipod and waved at me. She told me that she had been mandated to attend a job fair, even though she's employed (at a pharmacy). "Can you believe this s---? I showed her my taxes and pay stubs... and she still talks down to me, like this is for my own good." She waved her pink talons around in teh air. I can't see N----- putting up drywall as a career.
This morning there were only four of us in the lobby. "Carl?" Mr. L--- waved me in. His eyes were shot from pollen too. I followed him from the lobby, down the path of cubicles, past the copy machine to his office. "So did Community Service ever contact you about my last day?" I aksed. He squinted at his compuer screen and read it to me. "Yeeees. It says here completed on May 6, 2006... 70 hours... Satisfactory... Officer B-----. Looks like you're done."
CS: Saturday, May 6
The last day of CS was actually very uneventful. With weekend changes to all trains Carl ended up heading towards Queens on the G train. He got out and ran around looking for the A train somewhere in Fort Greene. By the time he reached East New York it was 8:15 am.The crew stood around the old grey van as if they were looking at a beached whale. It made a humming noise like Yoko Ono as it leaked a stream of green fluid. A toxic pool had formed at the bottom of the hill near a flock of pigeons with lime green feet. Mr. B----- was on his cell trying to get another van as everyone yelled out advice for 30 minutes or so. "Keep the engine running..." "No, just keep the fan going and shut off the engine..." "That's not break fluid, moron!"
"Can I go now?" Carl got Mr. B-----'s attention by tapping on the windsheild. "This is supposed to be my last day, right?" "Uh, yeah... just sign here and write LD (last day or low down?)." Carl pulled something from his jacket and handed it to Mr. B-----. "I made you a hat." (men's fedora, deep blue mercerized cotton/linen) Carl said handing him back the clip board. "Oh man, thanks Carl" Mr. B----- tried it on "Looks niiiice." Walking towards the train station, Karl waved at the crew and said "Good luck, gentlemen." They all nodded back. Mr. B----- primped his new hat in the side mirror.
I signed Mr. L---'s log sheet. "I've now completed Anger Mangement and Community Service. Will I have one monthly visit at this point?" "Yes, and one home visit and random drug testing. Very good, Carl." As he logged me in and assigned me my next report day I asked him about the tables out front. He laughed. "Last week, a truck delivered a pile of dirt for the planters in the morning, by noon it had a ticket on it."
The pile of dirt was probably booked, arrested, and then released on its own recognizance... pending grand jury of course. If the pile of dirt makes less than 16K a year it can get assistance from legal aid for all court matters. I hope the pile of dirt gets a good lawyer. I imagine DA G------ would accuse the dirt of being menacing and trying to evade arrest.
Eplilogue
I guess this is a milestone. I've completed court mandated tasks. My probation days are down to one per month. Eventually I'll be on the scanner instead of attending probation report days. Lucky me, this should feel special. But as with most birthdays as we get older, things just aren't all that special anymore. I actually don't remember what I did for my birthday last year. I think I was in court looking at a DA with home-dyed hair and judge that could stand to lose 40 pounds.
Regarding Civil Court, I've heard from the trickle upward that Ms. Sciocco and her witness are in a state of panic after her story collapsed under questioning (perjury = jail time). People tell all sorts of crazy stories, but time shows us something else. So far no movement in Civil Court, its now been over a month (since April 12). I'll call W--- again to see if anything has moved in any direction.
The court plays games. I play this game called Senet, a game of movement and consequences. It's the grandfather of backgammon. Every move has a consequence on a board with 30 spaces. You can block the opponent, but you can also block yourself by doing so. Your first move may not be your best. One has to wonder if the plaintiff ever thought about consequnces in court.
My criminal lawyer A---- called me to say that he's ready to move to apeal in Criminal Court after Civil Court. But that last nail has not been pounded into this civil coffin yet. I still have to be deposed along with the plaintiff's missing witness. I've been advised that Criminal Court will resist my appeal every step of the way. It may take up to a year, or when ever the DA "retires" from the case (what ever that means). No DA wants to look THAT bad on record. I was told that she is aware of what has happenned in Civil Court. So, I'll badger it, what do I have to lose.
Last week I called home for Mother's day. Mom is coping well. She's finally considered eventually selling the house and moving into a condo. She informed me that my father's headstone was installed and that my sister ordered solar lights. I explained to her why they only come on at night. We went over her will. I'm glad she's finally making one. Dad's matters are still a mess.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
CS: Look Out! Its Jesus!
Saturday, April 15
A thick fog coverred the ground on the way to the A train. By 7:45 am it had all but dissipated in the humidity. The Community Service crew gathered in coversation as they waited for the van. Carl asked V---- for a cigarette, saying he was trying to quit.
"No, if you have to work the week day they put you through the ringer" said S---, the Irish kid from Sheepshead Bay. "Sometimes they'll tell you your hours don't count if you get on the wrong crew, so gotta ask a lot of questions at first." "That's b--- s---! I feel sorry for B---, you know he's got over 500 hours! On the clock he'd be working for years! He might have to switch to a few shifts." said V-----.
Soon it was 8:45 am. Some of the crew already left. Mr. B----- probably wouldn't be coming today. "Hey carl, wasn't today you're last day?" V----- asked. "In theory. I think they owe me Community Service miles at this point." I replied. "Yeah, maybe they'll get you a trip to Rikers!" he said slapping me on my back "You know what I'm outta here, can you tell him that white V----- from the Ridge was here." he walked towards the subway station. "See you next week, boys!" White V-----, I thought to myself, is there any other race of someone named V-----? It was now 9:00 am.
By around 9:30 am it was just me and T-----, the new guy. "What do you think?" I asked. "I think we're idiots for waiting this long, you going?" "Yeah, if you are." We walked into the station and avoided the woman screaming "Jesus is coming again!" We ended up on the same part of the platform. T----- laughed and said "If Jesus came back again, he'd be a zombie. Zombie Jesus!" We both laughed out loud distracting the woman. I raised my arms wide and lumbered slowly to him "I'm Jesus, rrrrrrr, I don't want to hurt you. I want to save you! rrrrrrrrr." He copied me and said "I want your brain and your soul rrrrrrr." The train pulled up, I jumped in and said "Look out! Jesus is behind you! Run this way!" He followed me, We took our seats.
I didn't want to ask what he did. That would actually break my heart. He seems like such a nice kid, smart, well spoken with a great sense of humor. "So how many hours you got?" I asked. He said 70, I told him I did too. "And misdemeanor probation, how many years?" he had four, I said I had three. He asked if today counted for hours. "No, you have to sign out to make it count." He rolled his eyes "What's the point of showing up if no one from Probation shows up?!" I shrugged my shoulders. "I have to show up next week to find out if my hours are over." He shook his head at the floor.
He asked me for advise. He works at the airport and no one knows he has a misdemeanor. In this day and age he's afraid of losing his job. "First of all you have a misdemenaor, you are not a felon. You have to know your case and call Legal Aid if you can't find an answer on the web." He nodded in agreement. So I should just tell them then. "No! Not unless they ask you!" I told him to consult with legal aid about filing an appealed after his time is done (in four years). "Stick with it, otherwise it will always appear on your record." I reached my station. See you next week." I said as the doors closed.
Scores on the board:
CS miles earned: 8
A thick fog coverred the ground on the way to the A train. By 7:45 am it had all but dissipated in the humidity. The Community Service crew gathered in coversation as they waited for the van. Carl asked V---- for a cigarette, saying he was trying to quit.
"No, if you have to work the week day they put you through the ringer" said S---, the Irish kid from Sheepshead Bay. "Sometimes they'll tell you your hours don't count if you get on the wrong crew, so gotta ask a lot of questions at first." "That's b--- s---! I feel sorry for B---, you know he's got over 500 hours! On the clock he'd be working for years! He might have to switch to a few shifts." said V-----.
Soon it was 8:45 am. Some of the crew already left. Mr. B----- probably wouldn't be coming today. "Hey carl, wasn't today you're last day?" V----- asked. "In theory. I think they owe me Community Service miles at this point." I replied. "Yeah, maybe they'll get you a trip to Rikers!" he said slapping me on my back "You know what I'm outta here, can you tell him that white V----- from the Ridge was here." he walked towards the subway station. "See you next week, boys!" White V-----, I thought to myself, is there any other race of someone named V-----? It was now 9:00 am.
By around 9:30 am it was just me and T-----, the new guy. "What do you think?" I asked. "I think we're idiots for waiting this long, you going?" "Yeah, if you are." We walked into the station and avoided the woman screaming "Jesus is coming again!" We ended up on the same part of the platform. T----- laughed and said "If Jesus came back again, he'd be a zombie. Zombie Jesus!" We both laughed out loud distracting the woman. I raised my arms wide and lumbered slowly to him "I'm Jesus, rrrrrrr, I don't want to hurt you. I want to save you! rrrrrrrrr." He copied me and said "I want your brain and your soul rrrrrrr." The train pulled up, I jumped in and said "Look out! Jesus is behind you! Run this way!" He followed me, We took our seats.
I didn't want to ask what he did. That would actually break my heart. He seems like such a nice kid, smart, well spoken with a great sense of humor. "So how many hours you got?" I asked. He said 70, I told him I did too. "And misdemeanor probation, how many years?" he had four, I said I had three. He asked if today counted for hours. "No, you have to sign out to make it count." He rolled his eyes "What's the point of showing up if no one from Probation shows up?!" I shrugged my shoulders. "I have to show up next week to find out if my hours are over." He shook his head at the floor.
He asked me for advise. He works at the airport and no one knows he has a misdemeanor. In this day and age he's afraid of losing his job. "First of all you have a misdemenaor, you are not a felon. You have to know your case and call Legal Aid if you can't find an answer on the web." He nodded in agreement. So I should just tell them then. "No! Not unless they ask you!" I told him to consult with legal aid about filing an appealed after his time is done (in four years). "Stick with it, otherwise it will always appear on your record." I reached my station. See you next week." I said as the doors closed.
Scores on the board:
CS miles earned: 8
Civil Court: What Is She Really Hiding?
Wednesday, April 12
9:30 am Carl and his lawyer, W---, arrived at the Prosecuting Attorny's office on Vessey Street. As they crossed the street Carl asked again if he could leave if he would not be deposed that day. His lawyer just shook his head no as they got into the elevator. W---, reminded him again not to make eye contact with Ms. S, the plaintiff, nor should he express or make any jesture as a reaction to her deposition. "Can I stare at you?" Carl asked. "Nooo, then you'll make me nervous!" said W--- laughing. "It's not going to be that bad Carl, just sit there." The order of deposition would be the Plaintiff (Ms. S), the owner of Dark Forest (Mr. Forest) and if there was time, the defendant (Carl, the fifth level Cleric). The room assembled with all attornies, the stenographer and Carl present. Everyone was cordial to each other, they shook hands they expressed their concern that Passover would shorten their day. Attorney M, the plaintiff's lawyer said he'd bring her in. She would be suing the bar and Carl for an unnamed sum.
"Would Mr. Carl be in agreement to leave the room while my client is being deposed?" he asked as he returned to the room. W--- and Attorney H------ looked startled. "I have every right to be here and I don't intend on leaving this room." I said. W--- patted my arm "Let me speak for you, I'm your lawyer. Mr. Carl will be here, as he has every right to be present. You're client was made aware of this days ago." Attorney M left the room again saying he'd try to get her to calm down, he described her as weeping hysterically. With a thick Staten Island accent the stenographer blurted out "What's her problem? People get deposed everyday! Jeeeeesus Christ, let's get this goin'!" I shrugged my shoulders and resumed the position, staring at the Monet print of two boats on the wall across from me. About 10 minutes later she finally enterred the room. The stenographer briefed her on how to respond to questions.
"My name is Perfidia Sciocco... I'm 34 years old... Yes, I am a US citizen... I went to Hunter College here in NY and then to Brown... Yes, I am employed... I am engaged... " The grieving victim was suddenly very composed. As the questioning continued I focused more on the framed print, if I stared long enough the water would look as though it were rippling between the boats. Ms. Sciocco continued with her recollection of the night of the alleged incdient. She presented herself with a soft, girlish voice, unlike that evening of July 10, 2004. Seh also had a slight continental accent. On eI could'nt dect when she screamed "F--- you a--h---! Talk to the hand you stupid f-----!" According to what she recalled, she and her friend Waldo McBard had dinner, they went to his place for an apartif and to listen to CDs. Then afterwards they went to Dark Forest for a drinks. She had a Manhattan.
"That's when Mr. Carl walked in yelling at me and my friend." She claimed I was agrressive, drunk and rude and repeatedly insulted her when all she said to me was "Please stop, you're annoying me and my friend, I wish you to go away". My eyes glazed over. "He dragged a chair over, picked it up and smashed it into his back and fought him to the floor. Then I hit his shoulder to stop him, and then he grabbed me and bit my hand. That's when I lost my finger tip." How can someone just sit there and lie like that? And not very well I might add. She claimed her injuries have stopped her from continuing her education at Cordozo Law School and she might not ever regain feeling in her damaged finger. She was not able to perform regular duties like walking her dog or typing.
After a while the poster seemed to buckle and breath with each of her lies, suddenly a 20-sided di rolled on the table and scaley head popped out between the boats. It was Dragon, he put his finger over him mouth and gestured him to stay still. "Hello Cleric, nice sweater!" Climbing out from the wall, he nested his large scaley body into the office chair across from Carl and folded his arms. "Why do you think she's wearing gloves on such a warm day? Dragon smiled and looked at her. She's dressed very cheaply for rich girl... capri pants, white pumps, flesh colored hose. That blouse begs a question... 'Where is the Renaissance Fair?' " he chortled. Mybe she's more of a gold digger. Have fun with it boy, you'll be here for a few more hours." Perfidia Sciocoo's testimony did take a while, the stenographer took breaks to change the paper. Forest, the owner of Dark Forest eventually walked in. The room took a break and seating was rearranged. Ms.Sciocco left the room with Attorney M to cry again, 15 minutes later the deposition would resume.
Attorney H moved his chair forward "So when was the last time you spoke with McBard? Shouldn't he be here today?" She claimed that it might be about a year since then. All attornies agreed that he was dutifully notified. Ms. Sciocco said she reminded him the day before and said he was never informed, so he left for California. Attorney H produced certified mail slips to verify his address. They agreed to call his cell until the meeting ended if he did not respond. Then she did something odd. She gave out her own cell number then laughed saying repeatedly that she was mistaken. Her lawyer said he had McBard's cell.
Representing Dark Forest, Attorney H reviewed his notes before he continued with his part of the deposition. "Where IS Waldo? That boy never seems to be around when you need him." said Dragon. He flicked the 20-sided di onto the table again... "Roll Intitative: 18. Go and get 'em."
"How did Mr. Carl seem to appear to you when you first saw him?" Asked Attorney H. She paused, I could see her head bob childishly in my peripheral view. "Well, I don't know if I should say it in front of him, he might find it offensive." she replied with a slight crack in her voice.
"So you didn't see how much Mr. Carl was served... So the bar was not crowed, you could see the people seated at tables and the bartender serving people... You said you two were greeted warmly by the bartender... So it was the bartender and the patrons that broke up the scuffle..." The more she spoke her tone varied between a girlish giggle to steady crackle. Soon after her story started falling apart like cheap cereal in milk. In about 30 minutes the bar seemd to be clear of charges in her lawsuit. Her lawyer requested a break and escorted her from the room. My lawyer moved into position for questioning.
Dragon let out a declining whistle and a crash sound "Wheeeeeeeew... krkrkrkkrrnch... Not the brightest crayon in the box, that girl. Maybe she'll start crying again, tears ARE the last prayer of a scoundrel. Wah wah wah wah" he mocked. Kissing the 20-sided di he rolled. "Roll Initiateive: 20 of 20! Good for you Cleric!" Ms. Sciocco and her attorney returned, she was patting her eyes with a tissue. The stenographer changed her paper tray. "Are we all ready?"
My lawyer, W--- cleared his throat, and asked if she'd be alright with the questioning. She said "I'll be alright, I am a strong woman, I'd rather just finish this." Her lawyer asked that this statement be struck from the record.
"You did not complete your first year at law shool, but you persued a Phd from Brown. Were you more emotionally equiped to take a Phd?... Did you consider taking a 6 to 12 month deferment with your law school?... So are you trying to say that you did not complete your law degree due to your injuries?..." ultimately her answer was no to all questions. "But my injury was very painful." she replied. She added that she couldn't type or walk her dog or write. "So you are left handed?" asked W---. "No, nor am I ambidextrous." "So you're lead hand is fine then." "But I need both hands."
"So after wine and dinner you went back to Mr. McBard's apartment... So from around 10:00 until 10:45 you were at Mr. McBard's place... You went back to McBard's place to listen to music and to have an after dinner drink for approximately 45 minutes... Is that all?" This question flusterred her the most. Her attorney protested "You've already asked her that question a few times!" "I'm trying to establish time and place." said W---.
"What is your relationship to Mr. McBard?" asked W---. "We dated for a while and since I moved here we trying to see if we could be friends." she replied.
"Just that night, July 10?"
"Yes."
"So you are just friends then. Nothing more."
"Yes."
The questioning lead to the alleged incident, the tragic loss of her finger tip, after being brutally attacked by Carl. The tension was building, you could here her attorney crack his neck and back as he tapped his fingers on the table. You could sense her case was already limping like a wounded animal with a spera sticking out from its back.
"So you're location to Mr. Carl was behind him, as he tried to sit up from the floor... You were not infact between the men as you said earlier... Then you were behind Mr. Carl again, but you say this time hitting him..."
"No" she protested "You are interpretting what I meant touching him as hitting him, then he turned his head to bite me."
"You said you were hitting him. Stenographer, please read back the notes."
"The notes read... I hit him on his shoulder telling him to please stop the fighting." she read robotically.
"Well, he should have known it was me, who else but a woman has long hair." she answerred out of context. Forest cleared his throat and ran his hands over his long grey pony tail, not once staring at Perfidia Sciocco. W--- continued his line of questioning.
"Did you assualt Mr. Carl?... Could Mr. Carl bite you with intention you if you were behind him as you said?... Did Mr. Carl in fact assault?... " She answerred no to all. The questioning was coming to and end. It would soon be time to depose Forest, owner and proprieter of Dark Forest. But before then W--- had one more request.
"Please remove your gloces and place your hands flat on the table, I would like to see your injury." There was a lull and the sound of the gloves peeling back slowly. All attornies and Forest gathered around her hands for inspection. "So which is your injured hand?" W--- asked. "You can see there's a difference in length and it still hurts badly now and then." she said in defense. "I don't see a difference. Which hand is it now?" said "Attorney H. She raised her left hand.
W--- took a long pause and nodded "I have my digital camera with me I'd like to take some current pictures..." "No, I will provide those for you, of course at my own convenience." Interrupted Attorney M. "I'd like a copy too." requested Attorney H.
The room requested a break, everyone left he room except for Carl. Dragon waved goodbye to Perfidia Sciooco, raising the middle finger of his left hand following her as she passed the large plate glass window. Carl got up and stretched. "There you see... what do you think she was hiding?" asked Dragon. "Her finger." Carl replied. "Oh, my boy, that's just a front. She was cheating on her fiance with her alleged ex-boyfreind. Why do you think he's missing in action? Can you imagine her fiance leaving her at the altar over that weasel faced slack jaw poet?" he laughed out loud. "Go tell your lawyer when you get a chance." Carl stretched and said "I need to pee really bad, I've been holding it since this morning." When he truned around, Dragon was gone. The stenographer said "Your lawyer has the men's room key, you better go now."
The time was now 1:00 pm.
To be continued
9:30 am Carl and his lawyer, W---, arrived at the Prosecuting Attorny's office on Vessey Street. As they crossed the street Carl asked again if he could leave if he would not be deposed that day. His lawyer just shook his head no as they got into the elevator. W---, reminded him again not to make eye contact with Ms. S, the plaintiff, nor should he express or make any jesture as a reaction to her deposition. "Can I stare at you?" Carl asked. "Nooo, then you'll make me nervous!" said W--- laughing. "It's not going to be that bad Carl, just sit there." The order of deposition would be the Plaintiff (Ms. S), the owner of Dark Forest (Mr. Forest) and if there was time, the defendant (Carl, the fifth level Cleric). The room assembled with all attornies, the stenographer and Carl present. Everyone was cordial to each other, they shook hands they expressed their concern that Passover would shorten their day. Attorney M, the plaintiff's lawyer said he'd bring her in. She would be suing the bar and Carl for an unnamed sum.
"Would Mr. Carl be in agreement to leave the room while my client is being deposed?" he asked as he returned to the room. W--- and Attorney H------ looked startled. "I have every right to be here and I don't intend on leaving this room." I said. W--- patted my arm "Let me speak for you, I'm your lawyer. Mr. Carl will be here, as he has every right to be present. You're client was made aware of this days ago." Attorney M left the room again saying he'd try to get her to calm down, he described her as weeping hysterically. With a thick Staten Island accent the stenographer blurted out "What's her problem? People get deposed everyday! Jeeeeesus Christ, let's get this goin'!" I shrugged my shoulders and resumed the position, staring at the Monet print of two boats on the wall across from me. About 10 minutes later she finally enterred the room. The stenographer briefed her on how to respond to questions.
"My name is Perfidia Sciocco... I'm 34 years old... Yes, I am a US citizen... I went to Hunter College here in NY and then to Brown... Yes, I am employed... I am engaged... " The grieving victim was suddenly very composed. As the questioning continued I focused more on the framed print, if I stared long enough the water would look as though it were rippling between the boats. Ms. Sciocco continued with her recollection of the night of the alleged incdient. She presented herself with a soft, girlish voice, unlike that evening of July 10, 2004. Seh also had a slight continental accent. On eI could'nt dect when she screamed "F--- you a--h---! Talk to the hand you stupid f-----!" According to what she recalled, she and her friend Waldo McBard had dinner, they went to his place for an apartif and to listen to CDs. Then afterwards they went to Dark Forest for a drinks. She had a Manhattan.
"That's when Mr. Carl walked in yelling at me and my friend." She claimed I was agrressive, drunk and rude and repeatedly insulted her when all she said to me was "Please stop, you're annoying me and my friend, I wish you to go away". My eyes glazed over. "He dragged a chair over, picked it up and smashed it into his back and fought him to the floor. Then I hit his shoulder to stop him, and then he grabbed me and bit my hand. That's when I lost my finger tip." How can someone just sit there and lie like that? And not very well I might add. She claimed her injuries have stopped her from continuing her education at Cordozo Law School and she might not ever regain feeling in her damaged finger. She was not able to perform regular duties like walking her dog or typing.
After a while the poster seemed to buckle and breath with each of her lies, suddenly a 20-sided di rolled on the table and scaley head popped out between the boats. It was Dragon, he put his finger over him mouth and gestured him to stay still. "Hello Cleric, nice sweater!" Climbing out from the wall, he nested his large scaley body into the office chair across from Carl and folded his arms. "Why do you think she's wearing gloves on such a warm day? Dragon smiled and looked at her. She's dressed very cheaply for rich girl... capri pants, white pumps, flesh colored hose. That blouse begs a question... 'Where is the Renaissance Fair?' " he chortled. Mybe she's more of a gold digger. Have fun with it boy, you'll be here for a few more hours." Perfidia Sciocoo's testimony did take a while, the stenographer took breaks to change the paper. Forest, the owner of Dark Forest eventually walked in. The room took a break and seating was rearranged. Ms.Sciocco left the room with Attorney M to cry again, 15 minutes later the deposition would resume.
Attorney H moved his chair forward "So when was the last time you spoke with McBard? Shouldn't he be here today?" She claimed that it might be about a year since then. All attornies agreed that he was dutifully notified. Ms. Sciocco said she reminded him the day before and said he was never informed, so he left for California. Attorney H produced certified mail slips to verify his address. They agreed to call his cell until the meeting ended if he did not respond. Then she did something odd. She gave out her own cell number then laughed saying repeatedly that she was mistaken. Her lawyer said he had McBard's cell.
Representing Dark Forest, Attorney H reviewed his notes before he continued with his part of the deposition. "Where IS Waldo? That boy never seems to be around when you need him." said Dragon. He flicked the 20-sided di onto the table again... "Roll Intitative: 18. Go and get 'em."
"How did Mr. Carl seem to appear to you when you first saw him?" Asked Attorney H. She paused, I could see her head bob childishly in my peripheral view. "Well, I don't know if I should say it in front of him, he might find it offensive." she replied with a slight crack in her voice.
"So you didn't see how much Mr. Carl was served... So the bar was not crowed, you could see the people seated at tables and the bartender serving people... You said you two were greeted warmly by the bartender... So it was the bartender and the patrons that broke up the scuffle..." The more she spoke her tone varied between a girlish giggle to steady crackle. Soon after her story started falling apart like cheap cereal in milk. In about 30 minutes the bar seemd to be clear of charges in her lawsuit. Her lawyer requested a break and escorted her from the room. My lawyer moved into position for questioning.
Dragon let out a declining whistle and a crash sound "Wheeeeeeeew... krkrkrkkrrnch... Not the brightest crayon in the box, that girl. Maybe she'll start crying again, tears ARE the last prayer of a scoundrel. Wah wah wah wah" he mocked. Kissing the 20-sided di he rolled. "Roll Initiateive: 20 of 20! Good for you Cleric!" Ms. Sciocco and her attorney returned, she was patting her eyes with a tissue. The stenographer changed her paper tray. "Are we all ready?"
My lawyer, W--- cleared his throat, and asked if she'd be alright with the questioning. She said "I'll be alright, I am a strong woman, I'd rather just finish this." Her lawyer asked that this statement be struck from the record.
"You did not complete your first year at law shool, but you persued a Phd from Brown. Were you more emotionally equiped to take a Phd?... Did you consider taking a 6 to 12 month deferment with your law school?... So are you trying to say that you did not complete your law degree due to your injuries?..." ultimately her answer was no to all questions. "But my injury was very painful." she replied. She added that she couldn't type or walk her dog or write. "So you are left handed?" asked W---. "No, nor am I ambidextrous." "So you're lead hand is fine then." "But I need both hands."
"So after wine and dinner you went back to Mr. McBard's apartment... So from around 10:00 until 10:45 you were at Mr. McBard's place... You went back to McBard's place to listen to music and to have an after dinner drink for approximately 45 minutes... Is that all?" This question flusterred her the most. Her attorney protested "You've already asked her that question a few times!" "I'm trying to establish time and place." said W---.
"What is your relationship to Mr. McBard?" asked W---. "We dated for a while and since I moved here we trying to see if we could be friends." she replied.
"Just that night, July 10?"
"Yes."
"So you are just friends then. Nothing more."
"Yes."
The questioning lead to the alleged incident, the tragic loss of her finger tip, after being brutally attacked by Carl. The tension was building, you could here her attorney crack his neck and back as he tapped his fingers on the table. You could sense her case was already limping like a wounded animal with a spera sticking out from its back.
"So you're location to Mr. Carl was behind him, as he tried to sit up from the floor... You were not infact between the men as you said earlier... Then you were behind Mr. Carl again, but you say this time hitting him..."
"No" she protested "You are interpretting what I meant touching him as hitting him, then he turned his head to bite me."
"You said you were hitting him. Stenographer, please read back the notes."
"The notes read... I hit him on his shoulder telling him to please stop the fighting." she read robotically.
"Well, he should have known it was me, who else but a woman has long hair." she answerred out of context. Forest cleared his throat and ran his hands over his long grey pony tail, not once staring at Perfidia Sciocco. W--- continued his line of questioning.
"Did you assualt Mr. Carl?... Could Mr. Carl bite you with intention you if you were behind him as you said?... Did Mr. Carl in fact assault?... " She answerred no to all. The questioning was coming to and end. It would soon be time to depose Forest, owner and proprieter of Dark Forest. But before then W--- had one more request.
"Please remove your gloces and place your hands flat on the table, I would like to see your injury." There was a lull and the sound of the gloves peeling back slowly. All attornies and Forest gathered around her hands for inspection. "So which is your injured hand?" W--- asked. "You can see there's a difference in length and it still hurts badly now and then." she said in defense. "I don't see a difference. Which hand is it now?" said "Attorney H. She raised her left hand.
W--- took a long pause and nodded "I have my digital camera with me I'd like to take some current pictures..." "No, I will provide those for you, of course at my own convenience." Interrupted Attorney M. "I'd like a copy too." requested Attorney H.
The room requested a break, everyone left he room except for Carl. Dragon waved goodbye to Perfidia Sciooco, raising the middle finger of his left hand following her as she passed the large plate glass window. Carl got up and stretched. "There you see... what do you think she was hiding?" asked Dragon. "Her finger." Carl replied. "Oh, my boy, that's just a front. She was cheating on her fiance with her alleged ex-boyfreind. Why do you think he's missing in action? Can you imagine her fiance leaving her at the altar over that weasel faced slack jaw poet?" he laughed out loud. "Go tell your lawyer when you get a chance." Carl stretched and said "I need to pee really bad, I've been holding it since this morning." When he truned around, Dragon was gone. The stenographer said "Your lawyer has the men's room key, you better go now."
The time was now 1:00 pm.
To be continued
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Hey There, You with Scar on Your Eye
Monday, April 11
Carl over-dressed for such a warm day. Although it was colder in the morning, it would be in the 70 by noon. A full lay day ahead. In addition to the bi-weekly Probation Report and meeting with his Civil Lawyer, Carl promised Ver Klempt and Clara to move their belongings to their new abode. 8:40 am. On the elevator to the sixth floor Carl recognized someone from the Community Service crew, N-----, the young woman who returned from vacation (vacation?).
"Hey, N-----, I knew I'd run into one of you here one day." I said. "Hey how are you, baby? Funny running into someone from the crew here." she said as she grabbed my arm and giving it a firm squeeze. A probation officer in the elevator rolled his eyes and mumbled "Good Lord." We walked through the metal dector, signed in and took our seats. I found out that she has 76 hours of Community Service. I have 70. "When do you think it'll be over?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine." She complained about her PO, who was always arriving late and giving her misinformation. "You know she almost wouldn't let me go to my cousin's funeral? She wanted me to bring the tickets to her that day? She crazy? I had to catch a plane the next day!" she looked at her watch "She need to get here on time!" Mr. L--- called my name from the list. "See you Saturday." N----- is a pretty gril but she has a slight scar by her right eye. I noticed that most people on the crew have scars and bad teeth. One young man has a large burn mark behind his ear.
"Carl, so what's new?" He asked as we walked down the hall around the cubicles. I showed him my Anger Management diploma and he took it to make a copy. I explained that the parent company, Day Top Village, will be faxing him all transcripts. Another brief meeting. He logged me in and asked about the Children's Garden, I said I was still on Commuity Service so I will not be teaching this Spring. He nodded and gave me the next Probation Report day, April 28. "Did yesterday count as a home visit?" I asked. He nodded as he punched me into the database. "I take that as a yes."
I headed down to DUMBO to Ver Klempt's apartment. It took a few hours, but with just we three, we packed a small Uhaul truck to capacity. "Which box are spears in?" I wondered as I ran boxes up the ramp. Isn't it odd how you can sum up one's life in boxes and crates. In teh end that's how we summed up my father: boxes, folders, bags of bills, etc. I told them that I couldn't help them unload, I had to meet with the Civil Lawyer. He said Gobarth and some others would arrive later to help them. Probably not Mz. Vickers though... not after Ver Klempt's pencil bonking episode. ("Don't you ever call me stupid, you little theif!"... bonk!) I'd hoped that things had smoothed out along the way. We grabbed a quick lunch and parted ways. Ver Klempt reminded me about planning the new adventure after he and Clara settle in. I thought by adventure he meant Civil Court.
It was a beautiful warm day but I was choking and sneezing from the pollen from the linden trees. It felt as if I were flying, I got home and returned calls and e-mail, and re-booked two appointments around tomorrow's depostition. I caught my train to meet with W---, my lawyer, at his office. He wanted to go over my case thoroughly before my deposition tomorrow. We ran through the procedures and details. He said he'd like to get all of us deposed in one day. "Deposition is going to cost you a lot of money, I didn't want to remind you of that, but I have to." I nodded blankly. Luckily I still can't feel much, my emotions have no real highs or lows. Grey and cloudy on such a sunny day. Maybe it's not a bad thing.
"Get some good sleep, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Plan on being out all day."
Carl over-dressed for such a warm day. Although it was colder in the morning, it would be in the 70 by noon. A full lay day ahead. In addition to the bi-weekly Probation Report and meeting with his Civil Lawyer, Carl promised Ver Klempt and Clara to move their belongings to their new abode. 8:40 am. On the elevator to the sixth floor Carl recognized someone from the Community Service crew, N-----, the young woman who returned from vacation (vacation?).
"Hey, N-----, I knew I'd run into one of you here one day." I said. "Hey how are you, baby? Funny running into someone from the crew here." she said as she grabbed my arm and giving it a firm squeeze. A probation officer in the elevator rolled his eyes and mumbled "Good Lord." We walked through the metal dector, signed in and took our seats. I found out that she has 76 hours of Community Service. I have 70. "When do you think it'll be over?" she asked. I shrugged my shoulders. "Your guess is as good as mine." She complained about her PO, who was always arriving late and giving her misinformation. "You know she almost wouldn't let me go to my cousin's funeral? She wanted me to bring the tickets to her that day? She crazy? I had to catch a plane the next day!" she looked at her watch "She need to get here on time!" Mr. L--- called my name from the list. "See you Saturday." N----- is a pretty gril but she has a slight scar by her right eye. I noticed that most people on the crew have scars and bad teeth. One young man has a large burn mark behind his ear.
"Carl, so what's new?" He asked as we walked down the hall around the cubicles. I showed him my Anger Management diploma and he took it to make a copy. I explained that the parent company, Day Top Village, will be faxing him all transcripts. Another brief meeting. He logged me in and asked about the Children's Garden, I said I was still on Commuity Service so I will not be teaching this Spring. He nodded and gave me the next Probation Report day, April 28. "Did yesterday count as a home visit?" I asked. He nodded as he punched me into the database. "I take that as a yes."
I headed down to DUMBO to Ver Klempt's apartment. It took a few hours, but with just we three, we packed a small Uhaul truck to capacity. "Which box are spears in?" I wondered as I ran boxes up the ramp. Isn't it odd how you can sum up one's life in boxes and crates. In teh end that's how we summed up my father: boxes, folders, bags of bills, etc. I told them that I couldn't help them unload, I had to meet with the Civil Lawyer. He said Gobarth and some others would arrive later to help them. Probably not Mz. Vickers though... not after Ver Klempt's pencil bonking episode. ("Don't you ever call me stupid, you little theif!"... bonk!) I'd hoped that things had smoothed out along the way. We grabbed a quick lunch and parted ways. Ver Klempt reminded me about planning the new adventure after he and Clara settle in. I thought by adventure he meant Civil Court.
It was a beautiful warm day but I was choking and sneezing from the pollen from the linden trees. It felt as if I were flying, I got home and returned calls and e-mail, and re-booked two appointments around tomorrow's depostition. I caught my train to meet with W---, my lawyer, at his office. He wanted to go over my case thoroughly before my deposition tomorrow. We ran through the procedures and details. He said he'd like to get all of us deposed in one day. "Deposition is going to cost you a lot of money, I didn't want to remind you of that, but I have to." I nodded blankly. Luckily I still can't feel much, my emotions have no real highs or lows. Grey and cloudy on such a sunny day. Maybe it's not a bad thing.
"Get some good sleep, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Plan on being out all day."
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
AM: The Last Angry Word
Monday, April 10
It was sullen Monday, for reasons that Carl couldn't put to words, everything was just dull grey. As Carl ran around his apratment looking for two matching black socks the buzzer rang. "It's Mr. Long". Many thoughts raced through Carl's head like tiny dog-people nipping at his legs. "Did someone spike my pee at drug testing? Did I miss an appointment for home visit? Is this Monday?"" He ran downstairs holding a grey sock in one hand.
"Mr. Long, how are you? Did I miss a home visit appointment?" I aksed. "No, Carl I was just in your neighborhood so I thought I'd try my luck with a home visit." "You're lucky you caught me, I was just heading out for my last 'AM' tonight." I said as I tried to hide my one bare foot behind me. Mr. Long's eyes widened slowly. nodding he said "Good for you Carl, one less thing to do." With that he said goodbye and I returned to find a mate for his sock. One never can anticipate the probationary inquisition.
5:45 pm, I walked in with my chicken soup from the Greek diner. Upon entering the meeting room I could see that catering trays were laid out on the desk. "Carl, what's in that bag?" Councilor L----. gave him a hug and told him dinner was on BATF tonight.
And there was Mr. R------, he waved at me and pointed to the seat next to him. "Hey young man, how are you." I patted him on the back. "You know I know want to talk to you about your son. A friend gave me some advice for you." I gave him all the information that Lady E-Train had given me the week before. He said he was familiar with the church organziation. "I'm an old man, it's just me and my son. You will stay in touch won't you?" Unwilingly I said "Of course I will." Dinner was served: B-B-Q chicken, spanish rice, mac n' cheese and a loose salad. Later on City Councilman, Charles Barron would speak to us.
After eating Mr. L---- wanted us to talk about our experience in Anger Managemnt, good or bad. Two of the men said it was a waste of everyone's time. They've done this program at least three other times and it's exactly the same. (three times?). One man spoke profoundly and said that he didn't deserve to be here, but "In life we are all given trials to bear." Mr. R------ announced his son would be back in June if all goes well. I spoke as well, it was required. I didn't say much, I think I said "I learned mediation skills." Shortly after Councilman Charles Barron arrived, he had just finished an interview about Roger Toussant's 10 day jail time for his involvement with the MTA strike. He gave a short talk about how all felons have rights in New York State, but they are purposely missinformed. "You can vote, you can get a job, you can't be discriminated against for your crime, bet you didn't know that. It's not Florida, baby!" he said.
Mr. L---- gave us all positive comments on what we had shared with the group then handed out our diplomas. "Carl the Cleric" it read below the title Alternatives to Violence, Certificate of Completion. It made my stomach sink a bit lower, I felt the chicken bump into the mac n' cheese. I felt that thick grey feeling come over me again. Then L---- came up to me and asked for my phone number. He said he wanted top stay in touch. I felt odd but I gave it to him anyway. He said the T-shirt will be done soon. I completely forgot about it. I told him to enjoy the airbrushes. Everyone did the "guy" hug. Grabbed and patted like a farm animal, I wished them all luck.
Unceremoniously Carl walked back to the train with his soup, still bagged, in one hand. He took a seat on a bench by the court house plaza and took a deep slow breath. The sun was setting and the fragrance of Axe body spray was all over his jacket and hands. As he crossed his legs he noticed that his socks didn't match. A 20-sided di rolled around in his head.
Scores on the board:
AM/IC: 12 week course is complete
CS: TBD
It was sullen Monday, for reasons that Carl couldn't put to words, everything was just dull grey. As Carl ran around his apratment looking for two matching black socks the buzzer rang. "It's Mr. Long". Many thoughts raced through Carl's head like tiny dog-people nipping at his legs. "Did someone spike my pee at drug testing? Did I miss an appointment for home visit? Is this Monday?"" He ran downstairs holding a grey sock in one hand.
"Mr. Long, how are you? Did I miss a home visit appointment?" I aksed. "No, Carl I was just in your neighborhood so I thought I'd try my luck with a home visit." "You're lucky you caught me, I was just heading out for my last 'AM' tonight." I said as I tried to hide my one bare foot behind me. Mr. Long's eyes widened slowly. nodding he said "Good for you Carl, one less thing to do." With that he said goodbye and I returned to find a mate for his sock. One never can anticipate the probationary inquisition.
5:45 pm, I walked in with my chicken soup from the Greek diner. Upon entering the meeting room I could see that catering trays were laid out on the desk. "Carl, what's in that bag?" Councilor L----. gave him a hug and told him dinner was on BATF tonight.
And there was Mr. R------, he waved at me and pointed to the seat next to him. "Hey young man, how are you." I patted him on the back. "You know I know want to talk to you about your son. A friend gave me some advice for you." I gave him all the information that Lady E-Train had given me the week before. He said he was familiar with the church organziation. "I'm an old man, it's just me and my son. You will stay in touch won't you?" Unwilingly I said "Of course I will." Dinner was served: B-B-Q chicken, spanish rice, mac n' cheese and a loose salad. Later on City Councilman, Charles Barron would speak to us.
After eating Mr. L---- wanted us to talk about our experience in Anger Managemnt, good or bad. Two of the men said it was a waste of everyone's time. They've done this program at least three other times and it's exactly the same. (three times?). One man spoke profoundly and said that he didn't deserve to be here, but "In life we are all given trials to bear." Mr. R------ announced his son would be back in June if all goes well. I spoke as well, it was required. I didn't say much, I think I said "I learned mediation skills." Shortly after Councilman Charles Barron arrived, he had just finished an interview about Roger Toussant's 10 day jail time for his involvement with the MTA strike. He gave a short talk about how all felons have rights in New York State, but they are purposely missinformed. "You can vote, you can get a job, you can't be discriminated against for your crime, bet you didn't know that. It's not Florida, baby!" he said.
Mr. L---- gave us all positive comments on what we had shared with the group then handed out our diplomas. "Carl the Cleric" it read below the title Alternatives to Violence, Certificate of Completion. It made my stomach sink a bit lower, I felt the chicken bump into the mac n' cheese. I felt that thick grey feeling come over me again. Then L---- came up to me and asked for my phone number. He said he wanted top stay in touch. I felt odd but I gave it to him anyway. He said the T-shirt will be done soon. I completely forgot about it. I told him to enjoy the airbrushes. Everyone did the "guy" hug. Grabbed and patted like a farm animal, I wished them all luck.
Unceremoniously Carl walked back to the train with his soup, still bagged, in one hand. He took a seat on a bench by the court house plaza and took a deep slow breath. The sun was setting and the fragrance of Axe body spray was all over his jacket and hands. As he crossed his legs he noticed that his socks didn't match. A 20-sided di rolled around in his head.
Scores on the board:
AM/IC: 12 week course is complete
CS: TBD
Saturday, April 08, 2006
CS: I Don't Wanna Cause No Fuss, Too Much, Magic Bus
Saturday, April 8
8:10 am, V----- and Carl were the only crew members at the Broadway Junction stop. It was 65 degress and rainy. V----- had good news, his current injunction is without jail time, so he just has to finish his Community Service hours. Of course V----- did say that his mother called his ex-wife and threatened to cut out her eyes if she went through with charges. Carl congratulated him on his perseverance.
"My what?" he asked. "Sticking with it, you know. You knew you were overcharged and they weren't going to let you off easily, but you stuck to your guns." I replied. "Yeah, that last judge hated me, boy. It's not like I said anything in court, it's like he hated a pile of court papers. Three years probation, whew." Said V----- as he lit a cigarette. I said it was the same for me.
I was over-charged as a Class "A" Felon, then a "B", and then a "C". I refused all Felony Pleas, the DA said it would go to trial. It proceded, settling on a misdemeanor some what like a broken kite might settle on pile of rocks. I was told that not being convicted as a felon was a major blow for the DA. She did not appear on my sentencing day. Instead she sent some one else from her staff with hair that was much more overdyed than hers.
Blond is not one color, and your drapes should always match your rug. But the court is not about nuance. By 8:25 am the van pulled up, Carl and V----- were still the only two crew members at the location. Mr. B----- told them to sign in and waved them goodbye. Carl asked him how many hours he had left, this should have been the last weekend. "Maybe next week." he said. Carl nodded and walked back to the train station.
Epilogue
Well, I guess next Saturday is my last Community Service week. In Theory. On the way home I stopped by the farmers market at the Borough Hall stop. I looked at all the signs of Spring: potted primroses; peach branches for forcing; tulips; the smell of coffee. At this time of the year I'd be standing in a wet field teaching children horticulture. I miss the smell of wet dirt and the sound of children laughing. I have to say I even miss the A.D.D./O.C.D. kids at the garden. Instead I spend Saturdays in East New York wondering when Community Service will end.
No one wants to admit they have an ugly baby. I'm proud to say that any time DA G------ might think of me, I'd be her ugly baby, that wierd case from the summer of 2004 that she could not prosecute.
Mean while there's the matter of Civil Court. Friday's plaintif deposition was postponed until Wednesday next week. Mine might be moved to another day. I have to call my Civil lawyer on Monday to find out what is really going on that week. I hope I don't lose another client with rescheduling, as I did during the Criminal Trial. That would be the financial nail in my coffin.
Scores on the board:
6 - 6 = 0 IC sessions
12 - 12 = 0 AM sessions, Graduation Monday evening, April 10
70 CS hours have been theoretically completed. But next week will be my supposed last week, so I've been told.
New on the Horizon: Civil Court
8:10 am, V----- and Carl were the only crew members at the Broadway Junction stop. It was 65 degress and rainy. V----- had good news, his current injunction is without jail time, so he just has to finish his Community Service hours. Of course V----- did say that his mother called his ex-wife and threatened to cut out her eyes if she went through with charges. Carl congratulated him on his perseverance.
"My what?" he asked. "Sticking with it, you know. You knew you were overcharged and they weren't going to let you off easily, but you stuck to your guns." I replied. "Yeah, that last judge hated me, boy. It's not like I said anything in court, it's like he hated a pile of court papers. Three years probation, whew." Said V----- as he lit a cigarette. I said it was the same for me.
I was over-charged as a Class "A" Felon, then a "B", and then a "C". I refused all Felony Pleas, the DA said it would go to trial. It proceded, settling on a misdemeanor some what like a broken kite might settle on pile of rocks. I was told that not being convicted as a felon was a major blow for the DA. She did not appear on my sentencing day. Instead she sent some one else from her staff with hair that was much more overdyed than hers.
Blond is not one color, and your drapes should always match your rug. But the court is not about nuance. By 8:25 am the van pulled up, Carl and V----- were still the only two crew members at the location. Mr. B----- told them to sign in and waved them goodbye. Carl asked him how many hours he had left, this should have been the last weekend. "Maybe next week." he said. Carl nodded and walked back to the train station.
Epilogue
Well, I guess next Saturday is my last Community Service week. In Theory. On the way home I stopped by the farmers market at the Borough Hall stop. I looked at all the signs of Spring: potted primroses; peach branches for forcing; tulips; the smell of coffee. At this time of the year I'd be standing in a wet field teaching children horticulture. I miss the smell of wet dirt and the sound of children laughing. I have to say I even miss the A.D.D./O.C.D. kids at the garden. Instead I spend Saturdays in East New York wondering when Community Service will end.
No one wants to admit they have an ugly baby. I'm proud to say that any time DA G------ might think of me, I'd be her ugly baby, that wierd case from the summer of 2004 that she could not prosecute.
Mean while there's the matter of Civil Court. Friday's plaintif deposition was postponed until Wednesday next week. Mine might be moved to another day. I have to call my Civil lawyer on Monday to find out what is really going on that week. I hope I don't lose another client with rescheduling, as I did during the Criminal Trial. That would be the financial nail in my coffin.
Scores on the board:
6 - 6 = 0 IC sessions
12 - 12 = 0 AM sessions, Graduation Monday evening, April 10
70 CS hours have been theoretically completed. But next week will be my supposed last week, so I've been told.
New on the Horizon: Civil Court
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Catching the E-Train
Wednesday, April 5
There she sat in the window of the coffe shop, surround by bags of yarn and wooden tools used for twisting chord. Lady E-Train is a very talented snare maker, and a very wise woman indeed. She greeted Carl with a kiss and told him that she heard about his father. He thanked her for her kindess. Carl put his bag of twine down on the floor and brought out his snare in progress.
"How big do you plan to make that thang?" She inquired as she rubbed a wooden tool through her nappy hair for oil. "I don't know yet, maybe two skeens, maybe three? I hate small nets, they're a waste of time to make." She offered me ginger candy by quietly pushing it towards me across the table, she noticed my voice sounded hoarse (from Linden pollen). "I have a question for you. So I know this man, a nice elderly gentleman from Haiti with a teen son..." I said. "Uh hmmm." she said without looking at him.
"Does this sound right? He was acccused of beating his son, which was proven false in court. The judge later threw the case out and cleared him but his child is still with the foster family through Child Custody Services and ..." She cut Carl off "And he will be with CCS unless that man fights to get him back. I know this story well, its not new. You see the court system hates black people. Was the DA white?"
"I nodded yes and she continued "and Jewish probably, she thinks she's doing the world good by ridding it of bad parents. So I bet she's still filing papers to keep this man away. That foster family must loooooove that extra money they're getting from CCS. It's like a drug you see and they're all crack addicts." I nodded and went on to explain what Mr. R------ had told me, the gang involvement and all. She shook her head and put her work down.
"Lemme tell you, Carl. We are living in the white man's world and he better get used to it. Your friend probably didn't even know THAT fact did he. He's got to get with the program and get every legal piece of paper together to fight. If he's got no money he can go to Legal Aide, but he can't sit around wondering when his son will come home. It'll be his fault for losing his son if he doesn't follow through! Got it."
I was a bit shocked at the lack of empathy, but she's seen so much. She is probably right. The court hasn't lifted a finger to help him, they actually put Mr. R------ in Anger Management. She stopped and closed her eyes and wrote frantically on a piece of scrap paper.
"Here, take this to your friend. He needs to get these things and call these people. He's gotta do it starting with the his son's school, call this man at St. Paul Church on Schenk Avenue and drop my name. He'll need his son's ID and his last report card, a letter of character from his pastor, the original Incident Report, and the official court dismissal."
"Anything else?" I asked. "You need to gargle with salt and warm water.That will clear you sinuses and throat." Karl packed his skeens and loom and thanked her for her words of wisdom.
Carl will get the information together for Mr. R------ for Monday, Anger Mangement Graduation Day. Carl is breaking his own rule, but this might be the most needed acception.
There she sat in the window of the coffe shop, surround by bags of yarn and wooden tools used for twisting chord. Lady E-Train is a very talented snare maker, and a very wise woman indeed. She greeted Carl with a kiss and told him that she heard about his father. He thanked her for her kindess. Carl put his bag of twine down on the floor and brought out his snare in progress.
"How big do you plan to make that thang?" She inquired as she rubbed a wooden tool through her nappy hair for oil. "I don't know yet, maybe two skeens, maybe three? I hate small nets, they're a waste of time to make." She offered me ginger candy by quietly pushing it towards me across the table, she noticed my voice sounded hoarse (from Linden pollen). "I have a question for you. So I know this man, a nice elderly gentleman from Haiti with a teen son..." I said. "Uh hmmm." she said without looking at him.
"Does this sound right? He was acccused of beating his son, which was proven false in court. The judge later threw the case out and cleared him but his child is still with the foster family through Child Custody Services and ..." She cut Carl off "And he will be with CCS unless that man fights to get him back. I know this story well, its not new. You see the court system hates black people. Was the DA white?"
"I nodded yes and she continued "and Jewish probably, she thinks she's doing the world good by ridding it of bad parents. So I bet she's still filing papers to keep this man away. That foster family must loooooove that extra money they're getting from CCS. It's like a drug you see and they're all crack addicts." I nodded and went on to explain what Mr. R------ had told me, the gang involvement and all. She shook her head and put her work down.
"Lemme tell you, Carl. We are living in the white man's world and he better get used to it. Your friend probably didn't even know THAT fact did he. He's got to get with the program and get every legal piece of paper together to fight. If he's got no money he can go to Legal Aide, but he can't sit around wondering when his son will come home. It'll be his fault for losing his son if he doesn't follow through! Got it."
I was a bit shocked at the lack of empathy, but she's seen so much. She is probably right. The court hasn't lifted a finger to help him, they actually put Mr. R------ in Anger Management. She stopped and closed her eyes and wrote frantically on a piece of scrap paper.
"Here, take this to your friend. He needs to get these things and call these people. He's gotta do it starting with the his son's school, call this man at St. Paul Church on Schenk Avenue and drop my name. He'll need his son's ID and his last report card, a letter of character from his pastor, the original Incident Report, and the official court dismissal."
"Anything else?" I asked. "You need to gargle with salt and warm water.That will clear you sinuses and throat." Karl packed his skeens and loom and thanked her for her words of wisdom.
Carl will get the information together for Mr. R------ for Monday, Anger Mangement Graduation Day. Carl is breaking his own rule, but this might be the most needed acception.
IC: Last Session
Wednesday, April 5
It was a brisk morning, it smelled like snow. Carl was in the Heights at Oola's place, he helped her put her room back together the night before. He admired the new warm golden color. In French the color would be called "jaune", which also means happy according to Google. Carl and Councilor L----, settled in over bearkfast on his desk. This was the last Individual Council, in the Anger Mangement program. The both spoke between bites of their egg/cheese roll and coffee.
"So Carl, tell me what you thought." "Of Monday night, or Dr. K----'s assessment." They both took a bite.
"That's right, that was yesterday, tell about Monday night first... never seen you laugh so much." Councilor L----, took a swig of coffee and made a slow deep exhaling sound. He sat up in his chair to listen.
"It was good, I have to say that I was a bit embarrased about the topic. I don't know much about STDs or STIs. But the ladies handled the group well." Carl took another bite. "Carl, these ladies have seen everything, no lie. So what else?" Both took a swig of coffee.
Carl put down his cup. "I saw Dr. K----, she says I have signs of depression, but I need to get insurance first to get therapy." Councilor L---- wiped his mouth. "No kidding! You nearly went to jail for five years, son! But what do you think?"
"I don't think therapy could hurt, but I won't do the meds." Carl expressed his fear of medication (medi-phobia?). He said he's seen people go on meds and not come back the same. Councilor L---- reminded Carl that he should have taken the FREE insurance introduced earlier in the program. Carl responded "I didn't think I needed it at the time. I thought I'd catch up with money, but I think my ideas of catching up are not very realistic. I have Civil Court starting up. I'll call around to see if I can find anything on my own."
"So this is it" said Coucior L----. I'l lfax this over to Day Top Village so you can get your diploma on Monday everning." "I'll see you there" I said as I finished my coffee and put on my coat to get ready for an afternoon meeting on the West Side. So that's it, the last day. Wow.
But what about Mr. R------, that nice older man from the group? What will happen to him? He needs his son back. Carl felt conflicted about involvement with the group outside of the group. The Friday of the Slavery in New York Exhibit, Mr. R------ asked if Carl knew any way to get his son back. He looked very sad. Carl thought iof his own father's wish, to see him before he passed away, an opportunity that was robbed from him by court circumstance.
He knew one person that knows all about Child Custody Services. a crazy, yet all knowing snare maker named E-Train. Peole fear her, they run when they hear her laugh, but she is all knowing and a well repsected snare maker. Carl would hunt her down that evening.
It was a brisk morning, it smelled like snow. Carl was in the Heights at Oola's place, he helped her put her room back together the night before. He admired the new warm golden color. In French the color would be called "jaune", which also means happy according to Google. Carl and Councilor L----, settled in over bearkfast on his desk. This was the last Individual Council, in the Anger Mangement program. The both spoke between bites of their egg/cheese roll and coffee.
"So Carl, tell me what you thought." "Of Monday night, or Dr. K----'s assessment." They both took a bite.
"That's right, that was yesterday, tell about Monday night first... never seen you laugh so much." Councilor L----, took a swig of coffee and made a slow deep exhaling sound. He sat up in his chair to listen.
"It was good, I have to say that I was a bit embarrased about the topic. I don't know much about STDs or STIs. But the ladies handled the group well." Carl took another bite. "Carl, these ladies have seen everything, no lie. So what else?" Both took a swig of coffee.
Carl put down his cup. "I saw Dr. K----, she says I have signs of depression, but I need to get insurance first to get therapy." Councilor L---- wiped his mouth. "No kidding! You nearly went to jail for five years, son! But what do you think?"
"I don't think therapy could hurt, but I won't do the meds." Carl expressed his fear of medication (medi-phobia?). He said he's seen people go on meds and not come back the same. Councilor L---- reminded Carl that he should have taken the FREE insurance introduced earlier in the program. Carl responded "I didn't think I needed it at the time. I thought I'd catch up with money, but I think my ideas of catching up are not very realistic. I have Civil Court starting up. I'll call around to see if I can find anything on my own."
"So this is it" said Coucior L----. I'l lfax this over to Day Top Village so you can get your diploma on Monday everning." "I'll see you there" I said as I finished my coffee and put on my coat to get ready for an afternoon meeting on the West Side. So that's it, the last day. Wow.
But what about Mr. R------, that nice older man from the group? What will happen to him? He needs his son back. Carl felt conflicted about involvement with the group outside of the group. The Friday of the Slavery in New York Exhibit, Mr. R------ asked if Carl knew any way to get his son back. He looked very sad. Carl thought iof his own father's wish, to see him before he passed away, an opportunity that was robbed from him by court circumstance.
He knew one person that knows all about Child Custody Services. a crazy, yet all knowing snare maker named E-Train. Peole fear her, they run when they hear her laugh, but she is all knowing and a well repsected snare maker. Carl would hunt her down that evening.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
The Doctor Will See You in a Few Minutes
Wednesday, April 5
A haunting odor hung in the air, the smell of isopropyl. Carl was told to wait in the lobby area. He'd passed this mysterious blue building before but never wonderred what might be inside. A woman came out and asked if he was Carl.
"Name the current US president." "George W. Bush."
She introduced herslf as Dr. K----, she would be assessing him for depression this afternoon. He had a 3:00 pm appointment. He took a seat in her office. He was asked about my family history, if anyone had a history of mental illness. "No". Although personally he often questions this, as most people do. Did he supsect or know of anyone who has a mental illness. "Yes". Did he do drugs or drink heavily "No." "Have you ever had suicidal thoughts?" "Mmm, only the cartoon kind, but no, I've never planned on walking to the bridge without my shoes." "Are you a US citizen?" "Yes." Carl get's this questions often. Also, he often get's asked if he needs a translator.
"When were you born." "XX/XX, XXXX" (Carl is 139 years old)
She asked about prior long term relationships. Carl wasn't prepared for her asking about long term realtionship from long loooooong ago. He told her he ended a seven year relationship the year they were supposed to be married. They were engaged.
"Name a country occupied by US during a time of war." "Iraq"
She asked Carl why, he said he couldn't marry an alcoholic. "Explain" she said. Carl couldn't change her or make her better and he could no longer see a future with her. She asked what he did afterwards. He finished his last project and quit his job as a creative director in publishing. He gained 40 pounds, grew his hair out, didn't work for about a year. Carl lived off his savings and a few minor jobs.
"If you saw an envelope on the ground with a stamp on it, what would you do?" "Mail it."
Dr. K---- asked if that was the last time he felt depressed before this current situation. Carl said 9/11 was very tragic, he knew people that died and personally felt threatened. She said he had a lot of overlapping trauma with out a chance of recovery. The most recent situation being his father passing away so suddenly. "It's no wonder you can't feel highs or lows" she said.
"What did you have for dinner las night" "Uh. Hmmm, I know I ate something." I thought about it a lot and I couldn't recall if I'd eaten. I asked "Does that really matter?" She didn't answer. "Probably a chicken or beef pattie" I concluded.
In her conclusion she said that Carl should find a group or get medication, but first he must find insurance. Carl expressed his fear of drugs and wondered how he'd to pay for insurance with the financial burden of Civil Court looming ahead. She didn't have an answer. In his mind Carl rolled a 20 sided di as antmen ran rampid.
"What were those three things I told you to remember before I asked you these questions." "belt, candle, and feather".
I thought I answerred this Blade Runner-like list of questions well, but she said I have signs of depression: the numbness, the insomnia, lack of appetite. As I left I wondered why I couldn't think of what I had for dinner, or for that matter if I had eaten at all. It didn't seem to matter. Or did it. What does food mean to me... I'm a good cook but I can live on crackers and olives if I wanted.
I suppose I should be worried about all of this, but again, I dont' feel any pain. It's as if someone removed my pain gland. Maybe this is good?
A haunting odor hung in the air, the smell of isopropyl. Carl was told to wait in the lobby area. He'd passed this mysterious blue building before but never wonderred what might be inside. A woman came out and asked if he was Carl.
"Name the current US president." "George W. Bush."
She introduced herslf as Dr. K----, she would be assessing him for depression this afternoon. He had a 3:00 pm appointment. He took a seat in her office. He was asked about my family history, if anyone had a history of mental illness. "No". Although personally he often questions this, as most people do. Did he supsect or know of anyone who has a mental illness. "Yes". Did he do drugs or drink heavily "No." "Have you ever had suicidal thoughts?" "Mmm, only the cartoon kind, but no, I've never planned on walking to the bridge without my shoes." "Are you a US citizen?" "Yes." Carl get's this questions often. Also, he often get's asked if he needs a translator.
"When were you born." "XX/XX, XXXX" (Carl is 139 years old)
She asked about prior long term relationships. Carl wasn't prepared for her asking about long term realtionship from long loooooong ago. He told her he ended a seven year relationship the year they were supposed to be married. They were engaged.
"Name a country occupied by US during a time of war." "Iraq"
She asked Carl why, he said he couldn't marry an alcoholic. "Explain" she said. Carl couldn't change her or make her better and he could no longer see a future with her. She asked what he did afterwards. He finished his last project and quit his job as a creative director in publishing. He gained 40 pounds, grew his hair out, didn't work for about a year. Carl lived off his savings and a few minor jobs.
"If you saw an envelope on the ground with a stamp on it, what would you do?" "Mail it."
Dr. K---- asked if that was the last time he felt depressed before this current situation. Carl said 9/11 was very tragic, he knew people that died and personally felt threatened. She said he had a lot of overlapping trauma with out a chance of recovery. The most recent situation being his father passing away so suddenly. "It's no wonder you can't feel highs or lows" she said.
"What did you have for dinner las night" "Uh. Hmmm, I know I ate something." I thought about it a lot and I couldn't recall if I'd eaten. I asked "Does that really matter?" She didn't answer. "Probably a chicken or beef pattie" I concluded.
In her conclusion she said that Carl should find a group or get medication, but first he must find insurance. Carl expressed his fear of drugs and wondered how he'd to pay for insurance with the financial burden of Civil Court looming ahead. She didn't have an answer. In his mind Carl rolled a 20 sided di as antmen ran rampid.
"What were those three things I told you to remember before I asked you these questions." "belt, candle, and feather".
I thought I answerred this Blade Runner-like list of questions well, but she said I have signs of depression: the numbness, the insomnia, lack of appetite. As I left I wondered why I couldn't think of what I had for dinner, or for that matter if I had eaten at all. It didn't seem to matter. Or did it. What does food mean to me... I'm a good cook but I can live on crackers and olives if I wanted.
I suppose I should be worried about all of this, but again, I dont' feel any pain. It's as if someone removed my pain gland. Maybe this is good?
AM: To Protect and Serve
Monday, April 3
Two women introduced themselves to the group, Mz. DC and Mz. DW from Aids Service Center. One woman wrote on the quick-erase board and then held up something that looked like the model of the Portuguese Man of War I made in sixth grade. What manner of beast be this?
"Do you know what this is? Anyone?" no reponse from the room. "This is the female condom." The room responded with "ahhhh, wow, hmmm." "I only seen that in pictures, that's big!" said the youngest man in the group, C---, age 24. She said she'd pass it around later. What an Ice breaker. She read from the board "Any act of sexual gratifictation or pleasure that minimizes the transfer of body (fluid) transmissions. Can you tell what that it is?" "Safe Sex, I already read that in the brochure" said L---- as he ate his Chinese food.
"Safe Sex, that's what I'm talking about. So what kind of the sex can you have?" The room muttered like drone of porn "in the vagina... in the mouth... with your hands... with her hands.. with breasts... in the butt..." She wrote on the board: Oral, Vaginal, Anal. "The rest is just masturbation and heavy petting." It was difficult saying these things to two women. Then she wrote: Something to Stimulate with. "Can you give me some examples?" she asked. Again the room muttered "your hands... your fingers... breasts... your mouth..." then some one yelled out "your ding ding!" She asked "How about another vagina?" "Two for one, baby!" Someone yelled.
The topic tonight was Safe Sex and preventing or minimizing the transfer of body fluids. Through the evening she showed us lubes, edible panties, dental dams, and finally the female condom. But first she wanted somone to demonstrate how to properly apply a condom on the teaching tool called "Woody". C--- got up. He ripped open the packet and everyone yelled "No no no.. you gotta squeeze it for air man... check the date first... push it into the corner before you rip it..." He got it open and placed it over the tip of Woody "No no no... pull it out a bit... give it some space... you need room at the tip..." C--- slipped it over and pulled it down, ripping the condom. I guess this was the don't demostration. Mz. DW took over and demonstrated the proper way to apply and remove a condom. The evening continued and ended with short lecture on STDs and STIs.
Just as AM was winding down Mr. R------ showed up. He said he was late because he wasn't feeling well. Teh ladies invited us to take samples and a brochure. I stood in line to see what they had, Mr. R------ greeted me panting. "I'm glad I caught you, this is the last night right?" "We still have Graduation Day next Monday" I said. "I want to stay in touch with you, I think you're a very nice man. I like you're style." "Thanks, Mr. R------." I replied as I dodged reaching arms. He wrote down his address and number and gave it to me. By the time I reached the desk Mr. R------ patted me on the back and walked out the door. The sample table was bare, but I got two metro cards and a phone card for participating. Upon closer inspection Mr. R------ had written his information on the back of the Safer Sex brochure.
Epilogue
On Sunday I got a message from my Civil Lawyer that I am being deposed on Wednesday, April 12. This marks the beginning of the Civil Trial as I complete Mandated tasks from the Criminal Trial. I called him back the next day to discuss what I need to do. This Friday he is deposing the Complainant (aka, Claimant) Mz. P, and I should be there. By accepting a Misdemeanor Plea, I have lost the right to use my witneses, my evidence and my own testimony in any court. I should be frightened or feel somewhat scared knowing that I can't even defend myself, but I'm actually numb about the whole deal.
It's a packed week next week: Monday Anger Management Graduation, Tuesday Probation Report Day, Wednesday Civil Trial Deposition, Saturday Community Service (maybe? maybe not?). The wicked never rest.
Scores on the board:
12 - 12 = 0 AM session, graduation day next Monday, April 10
Two women introduced themselves to the group, Mz. DC and Mz. DW from Aids Service Center. One woman wrote on the quick-erase board and then held up something that looked like the model of the Portuguese Man of War I made in sixth grade. What manner of beast be this?
"Do you know what this is? Anyone?" no reponse from the room. "This is the female condom." The room responded with "ahhhh, wow, hmmm." "I only seen that in pictures, that's big!" said the youngest man in the group, C---, age 24. She said she'd pass it around later. What an Ice breaker. She read from the board "Any act of sexual gratifictation or pleasure that minimizes the transfer of body (fluid) transmissions. Can you tell what that it is?" "Safe Sex, I already read that in the brochure" said L---- as he ate his Chinese food.
"Safe Sex, that's what I'm talking about. So what kind of the sex can you have?" The room muttered like drone of porn "in the vagina... in the mouth... with your hands... with her hands.. with breasts... in the butt..." She wrote on the board: Oral, Vaginal, Anal. "The rest is just masturbation and heavy petting." It was difficult saying these things to two women. Then she wrote: Something to Stimulate with. "Can you give me some examples?" she asked. Again the room muttered "your hands... your fingers... breasts... your mouth..." then some one yelled out "your ding ding!" She asked "How about another vagina?" "Two for one, baby!" Someone yelled.
The topic tonight was Safe Sex and preventing or minimizing the transfer of body fluids. Through the evening she showed us lubes, edible panties, dental dams, and finally the female condom. But first she wanted somone to demonstrate how to properly apply a condom on the teaching tool called "Woody". C--- got up. He ripped open the packet and everyone yelled "No no no.. you gotta squeeze it for air man... check the date first... push it into the corner before you rip it..." He got it open and placed it over the tip of Woody "No no no... pull it out a bit... give it some space... you need room at the tip..." C--- slipped it over and pulled it down, ripping the condom. I guess this was the don't demostration. Mz. DW took over and demonstrated the proper way to apply and remove a condom. The evening continued and ended with short lecture on STDs and STIs.
Just as AM was winding down Mr. R------ showed up. He said he was late because he wasn't feeling well. Teh ladies invited us to take samples and a brochure. I stood in line to see what they had, Mr. R------ greeted me panting. "I'm glad I caught you, this is the last night right?" "We still have Graduation Day next Monday" I said. "I want to stay in touch with you, I think you're a very nice man. I like you're style." "Thanks, Mr. R------." I replied as I dodged reaching arms. He wrote down his address and number and gave it to me. By the time I reached the desk Mr. R------ patted me on the back and walked out the door. The sample table was bare, but I got two metro cards and a phone card for participating. Upon closer inspection Mr. R------ had written his information on the back of the Safer Sex brochure.
Epilogue
On Sunday I got a message from my Civil Lawyer that I am being deposed on Wednesday, April 12. This marks the beginning of the Civil Trial as I complete Mandated tasks from the Criminal Trial. I called him back the next day to discuss what I need to do. This Friday he is deposing the Complainant (aka, Claimant) Mz. P, and I should be there. By accepting a Misdemeanor Plea, I have lost the right to use my witneses, my evidence and my own testimony in any court. I should be frightened or feel somewhat scared knowing that I can't even defend myself, but I'm actually numb about the whole deal.
It's a packed week next week: Monday Anger Management Graduation, Tuesday Probation Report Day, Wednesday Civil Trial Deposition, Saturday Community Service (maybe? maybe not?). The wicked never rest.
Scores on the board:
12 - 12 = 0 AM session, graduation day next Monday, April 10
CS: April Fools
Saturday, April 1
7:50 am. The conversation continued from last week about detectable drugs in your urine. One must mind any pill, if someone on probation takes a non-prescribed Tylenol with Codeine, jail time would be emminent. V----- asked if anyone knew what we were doing today. G said Mr. B----- never knows until the day before. B--- was talking with N-----, the young West Indian woman, who had been missing for a two weeks. She said she was on vacation. Vacation?
I said today might be my last day of CS. B--- said he had over 100 more hours to go. "At least the weather's real nice, I thought they said rain" I said. "I hope we're working outside today, I wouldn't mind sweeping up a park." Replied V-----. I noticed his left hand was swollen, I asked "what's wrong with your hand?" "Yeah, I got into something stupid." he smiled sheepishly.
At around 8:10 am a man with a kufi cap asked if we were Community Service Crew. We confrimed. "Mr. B----- won't be here today, so you all just go home" he said bluntly. "Wait, do we get any credit for showing up?" I asked. "You have to call Community Service to find out." "Do we sign anything?" "No."
Carl stared blankly and wondered if this was an April Fools prank. But it wasn't. Carl has learned to lower his expectations. There's no way of knowing what will happen on CS day until one arrives at Broadway Junction. The crew dispersed and disappeared into the crowd of commuters. As Karl hopped into an A train, B--- and V----- followed behind him. They were talking about court matters. B--- was given 250 hours of Community Service for drunken driving, his third offense in two years.
"So I don't do drugs anymore, I don't miss that s---. I can understand the judge, his sister was killed by a drunken driver. But it's not like I killed anyone, you know." V----- rubbed his swollen hand and responded with a hearty laughed. "Yeah, I'm just a lousy drunk too. I had to face the judge because I was drinkin' wine at home during my home visit. My PO came at dinner time!" V----- seems like a nice guy, but he's probably a very very mean drunk. B--- contiued. "But the DA is still trying to jail me down here (in Kings County), I already did my 90 days up in Sullivan. She knows she can't to that, that's Double Jeapordy. She's just bustin' my balls with paperwork. She'll file, I gotta go to court, spend on a lawyer, refute, file papers... B--- S---! It'll get thrown out, she knows that."
The paper trail is the lowest form of torture that the court can give you, you'll spend till you go broke. Harmless? It is like herpes, it will pop up all through your life. That's what happened to me, it's perfectly legal to drive someone broke. But is this what they call justice? I reached my stop, said goodbye and shook their hands. I wished B--- luck.
Epilogue
I got home early and Oola was still there, we split a coffee. I told her I'd come by later and finish painting her apartment. Maybe it was good that CS was cancelled, I was already beat. On Friday I painted all day into evening. I can still smell the paint fumes.
There's a funny scent that I associate with CS and AM. Its a men's body wash called "Axe". Its not a bad scent, it's a little sweet like pastry with a higher citric note. Somewhat like a woodsy bakery, I guess. When I get home from either SM or CS the scent is on my hands and my sweater from people patting me on my back or shaking my hand. I'll show up next Saturday if Mr. B----- doesn't call me back. It's all the same to me.
7:50 am. The conversation continued from last week about detectable drugs in your urine. One must mind any pill, if someone on probation takes a non-prescribed Tylenol with Codeine, jail time would be emminent. V----- asked if anyone knew what we were doing today. G said Mr. B----- never knows until the day before. B--- was talking with N-----, the young West Indian woman, who had been missing for a two weeks. She said she was on vacation. Vacation?
I said today might be my last day of CS. B--- said he had over 100 more hours to go. "At least the weather's real nice, I thought they said rain" I said. "I hope we're working outside today, I wouldn't mind sweeping up a park." Replied V-----. I noticed his left hand was swollen, I asked "what's wrong with your hand?" "Yeah, I got into something stupid." he smiled sheepishly.
At around 8:10 am a man with a kufi cap asked if we were Community Service Crew. We confrimed. "Mr. B----- won't be here today, so you all just go home" he said bluntly. "Wait, do we get any credit for showing up?" I asked. "You have to call Community Service to find out." "Do we sign anything?" "No."
Carl stared blankly and wondered if this was an April Fools prank. But it wasn't. Carl has learned to lower his expectations. There's no way of knowing what will happen on CS day until one arrives at Broadway Junction. The crew dispersed and disappeared into the crowd of commuters. As Karl hopped into an A train, B--- and V----- followed behind him. They were talking about court matters. B--- was given 250 hours of Community Service for drunken driving, his third offense in two years.
"So I don't do drugs anymore, I don't miss that s---. I can understand the judge, his sister was killed by a drunken driver. But it's not like I killed anyone, you know." V----- rubbed his swollen hand and responded with a hearty laughed. "Yeah, I'm just a lousy drunk too. I had to face the judge because I was drinkin' wine at home during my home visit. My PO came at dinner time!" V----- seems like a nice guy, but he's probably a very very mean drunk. B--- contiued. "But the DA is still trying to jail me down here (in Kings County), I already did my 90 days up in Sullivan. She knows she can't to that, that's Double Jeapordy. She's just bustin' my balls with paperwork. She'll file, I gotta go to court, spend on a lawyer, refute, file papers... B--- S---! It'll get thrown out, she knows that."
The paper trail is the lowest form of torture that the court can give you, you'll spend till you go broke. Harmless? It is like herpes, it will pop up all through your life. That's what happened to me, it's perfectly legal to drive someone broke. But is this what they call justice? I reached my stop, said goodbye and shook their hands. I wished B--- luck.
Epilogue
I got home early and Oola was still there, we split a coffee. I told her I'd come by later and finish painting her apartment. Maybe it was good that CS was cancelled, I was already beat. On Friday I painted all day into evening. I can still smell the paint fumes.
There's a funny scent that I associate with CS and AM. Its a men's body wash called "Axe". Its not a bad scent, it's a little sweet like pastry with a higher citric note. Somewhat like a woodsy bakery, I guess. When I get home from either SM or CS the scent is on my hands and my sweater from people patting me on my back or shaking my hand. I'll show up next Saturday if Mr. B----- doesn't call me back. It's all the same to me.
Scores on the board:
6 - 1 = 1 IC sessions
12 - 11 = 1 AM session
70 - 72 = -2 Community Service hours left... is this possible? Is it over yet?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
IC: That Poor Bastard, Carl
Wednesday, March 29
I got there a bit early, I sat read my "SkateBoarder" magazine. Now there's a generation of slackers that I don't understand: Trust fund guys in the late 20s that aspire to "F--- the man". This is for a project pitch on Generation T.
Mr. L----- walked in removing his jacket. "Carl, what's up, let me settle in first". My mission thats morning was clear that morning. I wanted to get free therapy, not Hep-C and HIV drugs, or condoms, or MetroCards or a free pen. So we discussed. Since I've returned I no longer have highs and lows in emotion. I explained it this way "I'm behind on taxes, rent and bills. Normally that should scare me, but I don't feel it."
I explained to him a conversation that I had with Oola, that I wasn't trying to be one of those distant guys. I just don't seem to feel exceptionally happy or sad about anything. Or for that matter, angry. It's like being on methadone, from what I hear. No real peeks. Just all low moderate waves. My default personality is more like a helpful airline steward. But my fear is that the plane may be crashing and I'm still handing out wet naps and pretzels and talking about the inflight movie.
Mr. L---- got on the phone and called around until he found an open appointment. He said he was worried about me all this time. I was very flattered. I said I was worried about me too. The only way I can really feel for myself is if I say "that poor bastard, Karl". "Well that's not good for you, Karl." He made an appointment for me for next Tuesday, April 4 with a Dr. K----.
Oh, that poor bastard, Carl. The two agreed on an appointment for assessment next week Tesuday at the BATF office on Bergen Street. And what will become of poor Carl? Tune in.
I got there a bit early, I sat read my "SkateBoarder" magazine. Now there's a generation of slackers that I don't understand: Trust fund guys in the late 20s that aspire to "F--- the man". This is for a project pitch on Generation T.
Mr. L----- walked in removing his jacket. "Carl, what's up, let me settle in first". My mission thats morning was clear that morning. I wanted to get free therapy, not Hep-C and HIV drugs, or condoms, or MetroCards or a free pen. So we discussed. Since I've returned I no longer have highs and lows in emotion. I explained it this way "I'm behind on taxes, rent and bills. Normally that should scare me, but I don't feel it."
I explained to him a conversation that I had with Oola, that I wasn't trying to be one of those distant guys. I just don't seem to feel exceptionally happy or sad about anything. Or for that matter, angry. It's like being on methadone, from what I hear. No real peeks. Just all low moderate waves. My default personality is more like a helpful airline steward. But my fear is that the plane may be crashing and I'm still handing out wet naps and pretzels and talking about the inflight movie.
Mr. L---- got on the phone and called around until he found an open appointment. He said he was worried about me all this time. I was very flattered. I said I was worried about me too. The only way I can really feel for myself is if I say "that poor bastard, Karl". "Well that's not good for you, Karl." He made an appointment for me for next Tuesday, April 4 with a Dr. K----.
Oh, that poor bastard, Carl. The two agreed on an appointment for assessment next week Tesuday at the BATF office on Bergen Street. And what will become of poor Carl? Tune in.
Probation Day: If I Could Keep Crime in a Bottle
Tuesday, March 28
Karl corrected typos on his proposal for a new project hoping this would bring some work in. Sending out a proposal in this day nad age is like Noah sending bird into the flood weather. It may not return with an olive leaf in its mouth if it returns at all. Fly little starling, fly fly away.
Busy day, Mr. L--- had a list of people before me. but I did arrive at 9:45 am. By the fifth time he came out I moved up front and noticed he checked me off with out calling me. I took a seat up front. At 10:45 he came out and I informed him he missed my name. He apologized and lead me to back to his office. He logged me into his file and we chatted a bit. I informed him I should be done with Anger Management on April 10. He congratulated me. I asked him how I was doing on Community Service hours. He said I'd have to ask Mr. B----- about that.
Karl recalled that "ask him... no ask him" manner. That how things get done between departments. He chose to just nod his head in agreement.
Mr. L--- printed something from his computer and stepped into the hallway to get it. "Oh Karl, you have to take a drug test today" he said as he handed me the papers.
"OK, where do I go? The Jerolemon location?10th Floor?" He nodded affirmatively. I paused and gave a pensive look "Is there a problem, Karl?" "I don't need to go yet." He laughed "Well, I suggest you do something and do this sooner than later." "How often do I take a drug test?" "Every so often."
I guess that's why they call it Random Drug Testing. I admire the surprise-sneak approach, but I just can't pee on demand. I bought a coffee and had a cigarette. Then I bought bottled water and read the two-sheet Drug Testing form. Heroin, Marihuana, Cocaine, and Amphetamines were at the top of the list, then there were two more that I didn't recognize. I literally scanned my way to the 10th floor, handed my paperwork to the guard, and took a seat.
At around 11:50 I was called into the testing lavatory. The man with the paper shower cap and gloves handed me a cup and said "Just half way." As I stood over the toilet with a cup below me I couldn't help to wonder about scandal. Can they sell my pee (black market pee)? Can they spike my pee (framed pee)? Can they keep track of me with my pee as with a radio collar (G.Pee S.)? They need stickers that reads "Sample only, not for resale." It a took a while but I gave him his quota. I think it would have been easier if he wasn't standing behind me watching.
Karl corrected typos on his proposal for a new project hoping this would bring some work in. Sending out a proposal in this day nad age is like Noah sending bird into the flood weather. It may not return with an olive leaf in its mouth if it returns at all. Fly little starling, fly fly away.
Busy day, Mr. L--- had a list of people before me. but I did arrive at 9:45 am. By the fifth time he came out I moved up front and noticed he checked me off with out calling me. I took a seat up front. At 10:45 he came out and I informed him he missed my name. He apologized and lead me to back to his office. He logged me into his file and we chatted a bit. I informed him I should be done with Anger Management on April 10. He congratulated me. I asked him how I was doing on Community Service hours. He said I'd have to ask Mr. B----- about that.
Karl recalled that "ask him... no ask him" manner. That how things get done between departments. He chose to just nod his head in agreement.
Mr. L--- printed something from his computer and stepped into the hallway to get it. "Oh Karl, you have to take a drug test today" he said as he handed me the papers.
"OK, where do I go? The Jerolemon location?10th Floor?" He nodded affirmatively. I paused and gave a pensive look "Is there a problem, Karl?" "I don't need to go yet." He laughed "Well, I suggest you do something and do this sooner than later." "How often do I take a drug test?" "Every so often."
I guess that's why they call it Random Drug Testing. I admire the surprise-sneak approach, but I just can't pee on demand. I bought a coffee and had a cigarette. Then I bought bottled water and read the two-sheet Drug Testing form. Heroin, Marihuana, Cocaine, and Amphetamines were at the top of the list, then there were two more that I didn't recognize. I literally scanned my way to the 10th floor, handed my paperwork to the guard, and took a seat.
At around 11:50 I was called into the testing lavatory. The man with the paper shower cap and gloves handed me a cup and said "Just half way." As I stood over the toilet with a cup below me I couldn't help to wonder about scandal. Can they sell my pee (black market pee)? Can they spike my pee (framed pee)? Can they keep track of me with my pee as with a radio collar (G.Pee S.)? They need stickers that reads "Sample only, not for resale." It a took a while but I gave him his quota. I think it would have been easier if he wasn't standing behind me watching.
AM: Stressing the Point
Monday, March 27
Carl ran down the long hall, the 2/3 lines had problems. As he walked in Mr. R------, the older Haitian man was speaking. Carl waved at him down and took his seat. Mr. R------ was finishing his story about having his son taken away by Child Custody Services, the floor opened up to comment.
M------ raised his hand to speak. "That's how they break black families, they took away all four of my kids. Once the foster family gets a taste of of that CCS money that won't let go. They get $3,600.00 a month for taking my kids away!" M------ had slapped his daughter in public, he was reported to CS. He was charged with Domestic Violence and Endangering the Welfare of a Child, CS stepped in and took all his children away and placed them in foster care.
D----- shook his head "You know they wouldn't do that to a white family! You know how many times my momma knocked me up-side the head?"
I thought about that too. I've seen the back of my mothers hand so many times I know every piece of jewelry that she owns. With Ninja-like precision my mother could swat one of us with accuracey while driving.
Mr. R------ continued, "And my case was thrown out by the judge! Imagine that! That devil DA woman kept telling him 'He has an history your honor'. I call but the foster home but they don't tell my son I call. They lie and tell him I don't care about him!" His accent became thicker as the anger poured from his mouth. She said 'Your honor, he was locked up in Rikers!' She put me there! Liar devil woman." R--, the young man with dreads that sat next to me raised his hand "White people always do that to you, you see the way they look at us."
The topic went sallow, seems most of these guys had children taken away or given over to the other parent. Councilor L---- moderated the next topic and handed me a stapled stack of paper. "Carl, take this and read, you gotta participate with the group."
"Stress Relief Techniques... 1 Excercise releases tension and stress... 2 Deep breathing exercises: breath in through your nose slowly and deeply... 3 Massage Therapy..."
"I know where I want a massage!" said R--.
"4 Aromatherapy... (are we getting a field trip to Caswel and Massey? I thought) 5 Walking... 6 Have fun! It's not a dirty word. Play!... 7 Do something you like, shopping, dancing."
"Shhhhh. Who's got money for that s---?" someone muttered. "Hey, I'm just reading it, I didn't write it" I continued.
"8 Treat yourself to a new outfit or a new haircut." I picked up my head and L---- was looking at me confused. I shrugged my shoulders. Number 8 is probably either for the Angry Women's Group or the Angry Transgender Group. "9 Talk to someone, talking relieves stress... 10 Sleep more... 11 Eat right... 12 Take a multivitamin"
Councilor L---- signaled me to stop. "Anyone have any questions about this?" R-- responded, "I don't need a multivitamin, I need a job!" L---- yelled out "Number 25, sex, that's what I need, papa!" I turned to R-- and pointed at another item on the list "Number 27 Take a vacation? Where long Island? We're not allowed to leave the state." He laughed. That's the first time I'd seen his teeth. He has a nice teeth. "Number 20, smile more... see?" I pointed at my page and he laughed again.
The meeting came to an end. I patted Mr. R------ on the back and asked how he was doing. He said "Alright young man, I'm alright." I really hoped he was.
Carl ran down the long hall, the 2/3 lines had problems. As he walked in Mr. R------, the older Haitian man was speaking. Carl waved at him down and took his seat. Mr. R------ was finishing his story about having his son taken away by Child Custody Services, the floor opened up to comment.
M------ raised his hand to speak. "That's how they break black families, they took away all four of my kids. Once the foster family gets a taste of of that CCS money that won't let go. They get $3,600.00 a month for taking my kids away!" M------ had slapped his daughter in public, he was reported to CS. He was charged with Domestic Violence and Endangering the Welfare of a Child, CS stepped in and took all his children away and placed them in foster care.
D----- shook his head "You know they wouldn't do that to a white family! You know how many times my momma knocked me up-side the head?"
I thought about that too. I've seen the back of my mothers hand so many times I know every piece of jewelry that she owns. With Ninja-like precision my mother could swat one of us with accuracey while driving.
Mr. R------ continued, "And my case was thrown out by the judge! Imagine that! That devil DA woman kept telling him 'He has an history your honor'. I call but the foster home but they don't tell my son I call. They lie and tell him I don't care about him!" His accent became thicker as the anger poured from his mouth. She said 'Your honor, he was locked up in Rikers!' She put me there! Liar devil woman." R--, the young man with dreads that sat next to me raised his hand "White people always do that to you, you see the way they look at us."
The topic went sallow, seems most of these guys had children taken away or given over to the other parent. Councilor L---- moderated the next topic and handed me a stapled stack of paper. "Carl, take this and read, you gotta participate with the group."
"Stress Relief Techniques... 1 Excercise releases tension and stress... 2 Deep breathing exercises: breath in through your nose slowly and deeply... 3 Massage Therapy..."
"I know where I want a massage!" said R--.
"4 Aromatherapy... (are we getting a field trip to Caswel and Massey? I thought) 5 Walking... 6 Have fun! It's not a dirty word. Play!... 7 Do something you like, shopping, dancing."
"Shhhhh. Who's got money for that s---?" someone muttered. "Hey, I'm just reading it, I didn't write it" I continued.
"8 Treat yourself to a new outfit or a new haircut." I picked up my head and L---- was looking at me confused. I shrugged my shoulders. Number 8 is probably either for the Angry Women's Group or the Angry Transgender Group. "9 Talk to someone, talking relieves stress... 10 Sleep more... 11 Eat right... 12 Take a multivitamin"
Councilor L---- signaled me to stop. "Anyone have any questions about this?" R-- responded, "I don't need a multivitamin, I need a job!" L---- yelled out "Number 25, sex, that's what I need, papa!" I turned to R-- and pointed at another item on the list "Number 27 Take a vacation? Where long Island? We're not allowed to leave the state." He laughed. That's the first time I'd seen his teeth. He has a nice teeth. "Number 20, smile more... see?" I pointed at my page and he laughed again.
The meeting came to an end. I patted Mr. R------ on the back and asked how he was doing. He said "Alright young man, I'm alright." I really hoped he was.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
AM and CS: Winding Down?
CS: Saturday, March 24
As with the week before we cleaned the Worship Church. Saturday's Community Service day yeilded no new experience, except for conversation. Toilet and floors can only be cleaned so many ways. The weather was sunny and warm, highs in the fifties according to the morning news. 7:58 am, Carl joined the work crew that gathered in front for the Broadway Junction station.
B---, the contractor from Bayridge flagged me down and gave me a friendly smile through his crooked teeth, "Hey", he nodded, drank his coffee and winked. He has a tattoo of his ex-wife and four kids on his back. A little short-sided considering he's divorced and re-married since. He lives near V----- but tries not to make a direct association because, shhhh "V-----'s a wife beater". More than being the cliche of an Italian A-cut work shirt, V----- talks way too much, and Irish and Italians don't get along by nature.
B--- shook his head at S---, the young white kid from Sheepshead Bay, and continued. "You know about poppie seeds? That's all b--- s---! You gotta eat a whole bag of that s--- to get on their radar. That stupid S.O.B. thought he could get one on the judge. Boom! Nine more months of Community Service for him." B--- was referring to random drug testing on Probation Report day. Someone in court failed a drug test and claimed it was his morning bagel.
"How about, pot, what if you were in the same room with a pot smoker." I asked. "You don't smoke?" I nodded no and pointed at my cigarette. "Well don't worry about it then, you gotta try to suck it in real hard for it to show up." "What if it's in your hair?" asked S---. "Wash it then! This isn't CSI, they're not gonna spend that kind of money on you unless you're on parole." B--- laughed at us, I guess in so many ways we are that naive. "How often do you get drug tested?" I aksed "When ever they want." The van pulled up, B--- finished his cigarette and crossed the street.
IC: Wednesday, March 22
Mr. L---- wanted to know what Carl thought of Monday night's Anger Mangement speaker on March 19. Carl said he was riveted by what he heard. Mz. N---- was a batterred woman who lead a life of drugs. She is now a self-made woman who went from being a drug addict, to becoming the head of a 501c3 for a battered woman. The "empress" who has risen from the ashes of a former life, told her personal story starting with her third divorce.
A heated conversation ignited the most volitile people in the group. A young man, R-- said that she left a good man and that he was really a functioning drug addict. He gave an example of his work mate who's been doing coke for years and always seems fine. She called him just another drug addict. His tone took a harsh turn, it would seem that R-- was talking about himself.
As with the week before we cleaned the Worship Church. Saturday's Community Service day yeilded no new experience, except for conversation. Toilet and floors can only be cleaned so many ways. The weather was sunny and warm, highs in the fifties according to the morning news. 7:58 am, Carl joined the work crew that gathered in front for the Broadway Junction station.
B---, the contractor from Bayridge flagged me down and gave me a friendly smile through his crooked teeth, "Hey", he nodded, drank his coffee and winked. He has a tattoo of his ex-wife and four kids on his back. A little short-sided considering he's divorced and re-married since. He lives near V----- but tries not to make a direct association because, shhhh "V-----'s a wife beater". More than being the cliche of an Italian A-cut work shirt, V----- talks way too much, and Irish and Italians don't get along by nature.
B--- shook his head at S---, the young white kid from Sheepshead Bay, and continued. "You know about poppie seeds? That's all b--- s---! You gotta eat a whole bag of that s--- to get on their radar. That stupid S.O.B. thought he could get one on the judge. Boom! Nine more months of Community Service for him." B--- was referring to random drug testing on Probation Report day. Someone in court failed a drug test and claimed it was his morning bagel.
"How about, pot, what if you were in the same room with a pot smoker." I asked. "You don't smoke?" I nodded no and pointed at my cigarette. "Well don't worry about it then, you gotta try to suck it in real hard for it to show up." "What if it's in your hair?" asked S---. "Wash it then! This isn't CSI, they're not gonna spend that kind of money on you unless you're on parole." B--- laughed at us, I guess in so many ways we are that naive. "How often do you get drug tested?" I aksed "When ever they want." The van pulled up, B--- finished his cigarette and crossed the street.
IC: Wednesday, March 22
Mr. L---- wanted to know what Carl thought of Monday night's Anger Mangement speaker on March 19. Carl said he was riveted by what he heard. Mz. N---- was a batterred woman who lead a life of drugs. She is now a self-made woman who went from being a drug addict, to becoming the head of a 501c3 for a battered woman. The "empress" who has risen from the ashes of a former life, told her personal story starting with her third divorce.
A heated conversation ignited the most volitile people in the group. A young man, R-- said that she left a good man and that he was really a functioning drug addict. He gave an example of his work mate who's been doing coke for years and always seems fine. She called him just another drug addict. His tone took a harsh turn, it would seem that R-- was talking about himself.
R-- said it was the black woman's role to keep her black man going. Mz. N----- sat straight up, took a deep breath and shook her long braids.
"If a man is putting that poison in his body, he doesn't repsect himself. That means he's disrespecting me. I am an empress and I need a king not a fool!"
"You telling me that You give up on him for that, every brother's on something? You're giving up on yourself then! You're goon awake up old and lonely!"
"I wake up every morning thanking God I saved myself! Let him rot!"
I nearly dropped my fruit cup, I was amazed and horrified at what I heard. This went on for some time, then Mr. L---- mediated it back down to a conversation and not a role-playing grudge match. But then another man spoke up, "That's why I don't date the black women, they always take us there." Then the conversation heated back up to a full boil. The meeting went into overtime. I found it disturbing to find out what some of these men really thought of women. Some of their comments made the Taliban look like a bowling league. And yes, most of these men are very verrrrrry angry. Oi, what a night.
At around 8:10 pm, Mz. N----- wanted to end the meeting with a prayer for peace, she wanted all of us to hold hands. I looked over at L---- with a strained look, shook my head, and mouth "no". He laughed covering his mouth. The group looked like a broken fence bowed in prayer. When we dispursed I handed the two Iwata's to L----. He was very excited, he now had the Cadilac of airbrushes. He took them out from their cases and held them carefully as if they were kittens. Again he said "I got no money." I told him to forget about the money. In a pretend whisper I said "But my empress wants you to make her a T-shirt that says 'Insane Cake Possie'."
Oola is an aspring baker with much talent. Carl ate about a third of her carrot cake for lunch once and went into a sugar coma. He couldn't stop at one bite.
CS: Saturday, March 18
Carl discovered that the Haitian crewmate's gold teeth were actually removable caps. They fell from his mouth as he mopped the "goodness" from the basement. He caught them with the grace and stealthiness of a ninja, not missing a sweep. At days end, Mr. B----- did personal interviews with each crew member to determine their total hours and term of probation.
"I was given 70 hours, 3 years of probation, and 12 weeks of Anger Management." Mr. B----- let out a whew sound and shook his head. "It'll all be over soon, son" he said. But will it? At this point I've missed instructor training at the Children's Garden, which means I won't be teaching this Spring. This is the first season that I will have missed in the eight years I've taught horticulture. Wow, that and not seeing my father while he was alive stings. Instead of training my apprentice and creating projects for kids I've been painting rooms, moving junk, and picking chicken bones and glass from bushes.
AM: Friday, March 17, Field Trip
Mr. L---- was out of town on vacation but we were assigned a group field trip. I got to the Anger Management office on time at 3:00 pm, but I was the only one there. The substitute councilor, Mr. M---- told me to take a seat in the lobby, I closed my eyes and took a nap. I awoke to find Mr. R------ sitting next to me. He's the older Haitian gentleman from our Monday night meetings. He uncrossed his leg and waved his cane. "Hello young sir, you look tired." I told him I was just resting my eyes, but he pointed out I was snoring. The other guy named L----, showed up, he talked about how he nearly clocked a punk on the bus on the way here.
Other than the usual allergies, Carl has breathing problems from a baseball accident. Oola says he has sleep apnea. Young Carl got slugged in the face when Leilani Shelton, the reformed Druish girl, finally hit the ball and with all her girlish enthusiasm threw the bat into the air. Carl saw stars then passed out from the pain.
Destination: "Slavery In New York" at the New York Historical Soceity. On the subway ride, I learned more about Mr. R-----. I always wondered what this older gentleman was doing with this group. But what I learned shocked me.
He told me his son came home bloody and beaten one day. He said it was over an iPod. Mr. R------ said to him "I never gave an iPod, where did you get this money?" His son confessed his involvment with a gang. Mr. R------ went to his school and reported his son's injuries and placed an inquirey. But instead, his 16 year old son lied about the gang beating and said he was beaten by his father. If he revealing his gang involvement, he would've put himself in mortal danger. That weekend the police showed up at 4:00 am and arrested Mr. R------ and placed his son in Child Custody Services (CCS). He was put away in Rikers till Tuesday afternoon and charged with endangering the wellfare of a child and domestic violence. His son was placed in foster care.
Mr. R------ reached into his jacket and unfolded a very worn piece of paper. I could barely make out the Kings County court seal. He showed me that the judge threw the case out after the course of a year. Of course the DA still insisted that this man who walks with a cane had violently attacked his child and should be punished. He now has to deal with CCS, and his son will not be home until after he has completed Anger Management, even though the case was thrown out. Mr. R------ caught the lone tear that ran from his eye and placed the court document back in his pocket.
Carl patted him on the hand and said "We don't have long, he'll be home with you soon." Carl wondered if he even belived himself, the court system seems to be a beast unknown to most men. Although he didn't recognise the DA's name, Carl wished her cancer. Not very usefull for a fifth level Cleric, one usually needs a first and last name and some hair according to the D and D players guide.
We entered through door that was labeled "Start", and walked through a very well designed multi-media exhibit. Although it was facsinating to see how New York was a Dutch slave trading post, I felt I was missing its depth (Carl is not black). I walked beside Mr. R------ through the tour as if I were walking with my father. I read to him when he couldn;t make out the signage. As we collected at the end of the exhibit, I asked him what he thought. With his thick Haitian accent he said "Its very interesting, but its for the white people. It makes them feel bad about the slavery. It makes black men feel ashamed."
Epilogue
On Saturdays I wear the worst clothes I own to do what has been mandated by court. Every week I wonder if I look as akward as I feel. As a joke Oola bought me a hair net and a stocking cap to complete my outfit: cafeteria chic? I've been told it will be over soon. My probation will span three years. Guess I'll write a book someday.
Scores on the board:
6 - 4 = 2 IC sessions
12 - 10 = 2 AM session
70 - 64 = 6 Community Service hours left... or maybe not
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Another Probation Report Day
"Road to Riches" "Money, Power, Respect", "Criminal", "Get rich or die trying", "Ready to Die", "AmeriKKa's most WANTED", "Don't watch me, watch TV". These were not the new lobby signs at the probation office. These snappy phrases were printed on the jacket of the man that signed in before Carl. He put on his matching cap as he took a seat.
The female guard made me walk through the metal detector three times, I had an extra pack of cigarettes in my side pocket it turns out. She made a "tsk" sound each time that I walked through. She always makes that face; it's as if she draws her eyebrows on unevenly every morning around the large mole on her forehead. Her eyebrows tumble around on her face like two carp fighting over a peice of corn. Maybe this is a new occupational hazard: Shifty Eyebrow Syndrome.
My PO, Mr. L---, called me in. "How's the jet lag coming along, Carl?" he asked. I told him I think I've settled on Pacific Standard Time. He laughed, and said "Now you're three hours behind." He told me that his trip to China offset his sleep for about a month. That seems about right. Ver Klempt himself is still in Shanghai, he'll soon return to King County. He'll be going through the lag himself. He might bring back third world snacks with names like Monkeypaw Jerked Meat or Jellyfish Health Leather. I noticed the neighborhood blog has learned about our covert operation.
At this point in time, I no longer get up at 4:00 am looking for dinner, but I still have to take a late afternoon nap. Mr. L--- looked over my record and told me I was almost done with Anger Mangement. "Graduation Day, April 10" I said. I didn't make a crack about the diploma with the unhappy face seal. He is a nice man, but he is still "the man". Community Service is reaching it's end too, ETA three weekends. Soon I'll start teaching gardening to children in spring, my real community service job.
I posed two probation-related situations to Mr. L---. I have to plan for my father's death anniversary next year. I still miss him and think of him often. I also have a potential shot at becoming a spokesman for a series of craft DVDs (keyword is potential). He said as long as I can give him a scheduled date, neither would be a problem.
NOTE: Next Probation Report day March 28. Mid-afternoon home visit this week Thursday, March 16.
The female guard made me walk through the metal detector three times, I had an extra pack of cigarettes in my side pocket it turns out. She made a "tsk" sound each time that I walked through. She always makes that face; it's as if she draws her eyebrows on unevenly every morning around the large mole on her forehead. Her eyebrows tumble around on her face like two carp fighting over a peice of corn. Maybe this is a new occupational hazard: Shifty Eyebrow Syndrome.
My PO, Mr. L---, called me in. "How's the jet lag coming along, Carl?" he asked. I told him I think I've settled on Pacific Standard Time. He laughed, and said "Now you're three hours behind." He told me that his trip to China offset his sleep for about a month. That seems about right. Ver Klempt himself is still in Shanghai, he'll soon return to King County. He'll be going through the lag himself. He might bring back third world snacks with names like Monkeypaw Jerked Meat or Jellyfish Health Leather. I noticed the neighborhood blog has learned about our covert operation.
At this point in time, I no longer get up at 4:00 am looking for dinner, but I still have to take a late afternoon nap. Mr. L--- looked over my record and told me I was almost done with Anger Mangement. "Graduation Day, April 10" I said. I didn't make a crack about the diploma with the unhappy face seal. He is a nice man, but he is still "the man". Community Service is reaching it's end too, ETA three weekends. Soon I'll start teaching gardening to children in spring, my real community service job.
I posed two probation-related situations to Mr. L---. I have to plan for my father's death anniversary next year. I still miss him and think of him often. I also have a potential shot at becoming a spokesman for a series of craft DVDs (keyword is potential). He said as long as I can give him a scheduled date, neither would be a problem.
NOTE: Next Probation Report day March 28. Mid-afternoon home visit this week Thursday, March 16.
Monday, March 13, 2006
AM: Not An Angry Word Said
I took the elevator with L----, the young Puerto Rican guy with four kids. There were only five of us waiting in front of the group room, one other guy was in Individual Council. They sat around talking, I ate my soup. Well, despite making it there on time, the substitute Anger Management councilor sent us home. He said "Just sign in and go, I don't know where you're at with the program but you get credit for showing up." He left the room to look for the sign in sheet.
L---- said he was looking for a good airbrush. I told him I have two Iwata's that I don't use anymore, they just need new needles. I noticed that all eyes turned to us when I said needles. To clarify, I said he can purchase the AIRBRUSH NEEDLES at Pearl Paint for about $25 each. He said he'd like to buy the Iwatas from me but he was flat broke. He already has a dual action Badger and a 70 ppi compressor, but needs something finer for detail work.
Carl knows detail work, he went to a four year art college. He once airbrushed H.R. Geiger's Necronomicon and Frank Frazetta's Berserker onto the side of a van. It was described as a "bitchin" ride.
Since he hasn't been able to work, he's been airbrushing T-shirts and jackets for money. I don't like getting involved with anyone in the groups on a personal basis, but I do know he's been strapped for cash. I told him I'll bring it next week, he can take a look for himself. I'd rather just give it to him. I'm not a big fan of prison craft but maybe i'l ask him for a T-shirt.
We sat around and joked for about 30 minutes, then we all signed in and left. Reminder: We are meeting on Friday at the AM office at 3:00 pm. We will be going to an exhibit: "The History of Slavery in America".
Epilogue
Seems most of the guys have four or five kids with two or three different women. With exception for the MTA, a felony rap sheet will render anyone unemployable with most companies, despite rehab and training. On the other end of the spectrum, having a lot of experience can also render a seasoned pro unemployable in this day and age. I always wonder if the world will right itself. Politics and all, it is now upside down.
L---- said he was looking for a good airbrush. I told him I have two Iwata's that I don't use anymore, they just need new needles. I noticed that all eyes turned to us when I said needles. To clarify, I said he can purchase the AIRBRUSH NEEDLES at Pearl Paint for about $25 each. He said he'd like to buy the Iwatas from me but he was flat broke. He already has a dual action Badger and a 70 ppi compressor, but needs something finer for detail work.
Carl knows detail work, he went to a four year art college. He once airbrushed H.R. Geiger's Necronomicon and Frank Frazetta's Berserker onto the side of a van. It was described as a "bitchin" ride.
Since he hasn't been able to work, he's been airbrushing T-shirts and jackets for money. I don't like getting involved with anyone in the groups on a personal basis, but I do know he's been strapped for cash. I told him I'll bring it next week, he can take a look for himself. I'd rather just give it to him. I'm not a big fan of prison craft but maybe i'l ask him for a T-shirt.
We sat around and joked for about 30 minutes, then we all signed in and left. Reminder: We are meeting on Friday at the AM office at 3:00 pm. We will be going to an exhibit: "The History of Slavery in America".
Epilogue
Seems most of the guys have four or five kids with two or three different women. With exception for the MTA, a felony rap sheet will render anyone unemployable with most companies, despite rehab and training. On the other end of the spectrum, having a lot of experience can also render a seasoned pro unemployable in this day and age. I always wonder if the world will right itself. Politics and all, it is now upside down.
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