IC: On Borrowed Fumes

On Tuesday morning, February 28, I had my report day with my PO. The woman at the desk yelled "Sign in here!" and made a tsk sound. Sometimes she isn't that pleasant. At around 9:20 am, Mr. L--- entered the lobby, looked around and called me from the sign in sheet. "Carl?" He quizzed. He said he didn't recognize me at first. It wasn't my tan, it my the cleric robe. "Winter wear, fourth level Cleric." I said. I followed him down the hallway.

He asked how everything went. I said "As good as family and funerals could possibly go." I gave him my round trip itinerary and my father's death certificate to copy. I didn't ask about going back to Middle Earth for the death anniversary. I was still a bit sensitive about the situation at hand. Instead we talked about how long the flight was and how long I might be jet-lagged. Our meeting was short, my next report day is March 14. He informed me that now that we are passed the first month, I will report to him only twice a month with one home visit. By June I'll just walk in to scan my hand for next two and half years. I supppose I should celebrate that milestone by cleaning my apartment. Maybe it's the jet lag, but it all felt the same to me. I scratched my chin and realized I hadn't shaved. What the hell did I look like?

Wednesday, March 1: I C
9:05 am, I was late for my Anger Management, Individual Council. Still lagged, I slept through my alarm clock. I ran to the phone to call AM Councilor, Mr. L----. "I'm leaving now! I'll be there in about 25 minutes!" he told me to calm down, he's not going anywhere. I threw on a sweater, made sure I was wearing matching shoes and bolted down the stairs to the subway. Then I ran back upstairs because I left my wallet and then ran back down to the subway again. The mouthwash was still burning my gums. What a bad time to quit smoking. I felt like I brushed my mouth with a pack of Kools. I never know what to say at these IC sessions. Maybe it's his job, but Mr. L---- always ends each meeting by saying "Well, you're here for a reason." I've learned to just nod and take my mind elsewhere, ala "Brazil".

But on this day a little light peeked into Mr. L----'s cubicle. He wanted to know how I felt about my father passing away. Instead I said it was rediculous that I would have had a harder time seeing him alive than dead by way to the court system. I said I was angry about that. So there, I finally I gave him what he wanted, an admission of anger. Instead of saying "You see!" he said "Carl, you know I can't see you getting into a bar fight."

Was this a test?? Did he actaully read that mountain of crap that is my court case? Am I no longer just an angry case number?

"I don't think you belong in this program."
"Oh please, don't make me start a new program over, we only have 5 weeks left."
"I'm not gonna do that. I just can't see you starting a fight."

He wanted to know what happenned to me that night. I told him about being harassed over my seat and my freind's seat and how it lead to a scuffle, "No punches were thrown." He nodded as he listened.

"I'm broke, I spent thousands on legal fees. I've lost two major clients with court dates shuffling around. But wasn't that the court's stragey? Bleed me?" I blathered on about why I took a plea with my hands talking, Bill Clinton style. But I left out the part about wishing cancer every morning on that crack-whore complainant, her gay-boyfriend witness, the judge, and the DA. I told him about Dark Tower, it's just a nice old tavern with opera on Thurday nights. I said "It's not like the bar scene from Serpico." He laughed he said he knew the tavern well.
"Isn't it rediculous, to take a plea I have to admit to something I didn't do, and take a convenient punishment. Now I can't use any of my witnesses or evidence in Civil Court. They got me good, didn't they. My reason for being here states: Mandated by Court, not Shot a Man in the Eye over Crack." I wiped the white spittle from the corners of my mouth and sat back down. I didn't realize I was standing. He said he'd never seen my so animated.

Mr. L---- asked if I could share this with the group, I said I can't while I have a Civil Case pending, statute of three years from filing date. Legal Council has advised me as such. He said the guys can benefit from hearing my story, a lot of them took Felony Pleas becuase they had no choice. He explained that M-------- was falsley accused of beating his wife, but he had to take a plea so that his kids would not be taken away by the state. Ouch! I declined again.

He reminded me that I have to participate with the group somehow, I still have to fulfill this criterium. It's my missing quad on his angry grid. I said I'm open to suggestion but I have legal limits as to what I can share with anyone.

Epilogue
It's best that the Criminal Court system isn't responsible for cancer research. They would glady find the wrong cause just to say that research was completed with satisfaction. They'd arrest the wrong symptom, jail it and let the real diseases run free. The way my case was handled was more like origami. It was folded and twisted into something with triangular wings and a tail, and the court held it up proudly called it a crane.

I'm surprised about this week's IC session, but I did pose a rhetorical question to Councilor L----. "When the judge finds out that I'm not pathologically angry and I'm not a drug addict, what will he do with this information?" He replied "Don't know, that's up to the courts." I'm out of gas. I could be angrier but I'd need to do this on borrowed fumes.