Chapter 17- First stop ** Chapter 18-Atlanta ** Chapter 19-Where Did You Say?

 

Part 3 - After the Incident

 

Chapter 17

First stop

     After Matt left the courthouse, he was sent briefly to Cullman before the processing began to transition him to a federal prison.  He stayed there only a few days before he was transported to Calhoun County Jail in Anniston. We visited him there a few times and Jim went with us. Jim had been raised in Anniston and knew his way around town.

     Calhoun County was an older jail in the industrial part of town. The waiting room was small and the facility was not the cleanest we had visited. Many years later we would have a friend lose her son while in the custody of the Calhoun County Jail. Many questions about his death are still unanswered and may always be. We were lucky that Matt had spent enough time in Cullman County to overcome most of his drug dependence.

     His dad and I knew this would be a long process. From Anniston Matt would most likely be transported to Atlanta which served as a holding prison until assignments were made as to where prisoners would relocate. We had looked at the map from the Federal Board of Prisons and assumed that Matt would go to a medium facility based on his charges, the first offense, and what his lawyer had said. There were several within close proximity to our home. In fact, Talladega was a medium and not too far away. Our attorney informed us that Talladega had just recently had a problem with drugs being brought in to the prisoners so that might not be the best place for Matt.

     All we could do now is wait. We visited Calhoun County on visiting days but we never knew when Matt would be moved. He would simply call us collect when he changed locations. Talk about a stressful time! Just not knowing the future can be nerve wrecking, like sitting and waiting for the hands of the clock to move. As a mom, all I could do was pray for his safety. I prayed daily for a hedge of protection for my son. I knew the kind of people who were in prison and now my baby was one of them.

      I remember a conversation I had with Matt after this all came about. I was wondering what I could have done or did not do that might have prevented this situation. I asked him if maybe I had tried harder to keep him away from despicable characters if that might have made a difference. Maybe I was too tough or too lenient. Maybe I should have filtered his friends more closely. I had known all his childhood friends and their parents, but as he grew older, I did not know the new faces. Some came to see him but didn’t stay long enough for me to introduce myself. If I questioned their motive, he would convince me otherwise. I remember his response so clearly. He said, “Mom, I was probably the worst of the worst. The other parents wanted to keep their children away from me.”  Where had I been? I thought I was doing the best I could at parenting. I took him to church and taught him about Jesus.  He was always polite, made good grades, but he was living another life, an alternate culture that was destroying the child I knew and loved.

     And now, this mom was waiting to hear the name of the Federal Prison where her baby boy would spend the next seven years of his life. How could this be happening?

 

Chapter 18

Atlanta

       The phone call finally came. Collect from the Federal Prison in Atlanta. That is a call you never want to hear. It’s a simple recording that says “Hello. You have a collect call from _______, an inmate in a federal prison. To accept this call press 1.” The blank is filled in by a recording from the inmate. I guess they are prompted to say their name after a beep so the call is more personable.  It is so shocking to get that first call. I knew it would be a collect call, but I was not prepared for the federal prisoner part. It made the whole situation so real, as if I had been dreaming all along.

      Matt’s message was short and to the point. He was in Atlanta Federal prison, he would be processed and sent to his permanent location within 1-2 weeks. He would be locked in most of the time, kept away from the other prisoners, and we could not visit him there. We also could not send him any money on account or any personal items. Basically, he just had to wait. He was in a cell 23 out of 24 hours a day.

      All we could do was wait to hear from him when he was relocated. His dad and I started mapping all the medium facilities within a certain radius. Matt’s pre-trial probation officer had told us that the Federal Board of Prisons tried to keep the prisoner within 500 miles of home, so we located all the qualifying facilities within 500 miles. The website listed every prison, but some could be eliminated in our search because they only housed a certain population, like just women or maximum-security prisoners.

      From the map we determined we would probably be headed west to Mississippi or maybe Arkansas. Never in our wildest dreams could we have imagined our destination for the first visit with our son.

 

  Chapter 18

Where did you say?

     As a way to pass time and fill a need, I would check the Federal Board of Prisons daily. I’d do an inmate search.  I found out I could pull up Matt name on the website and it would tell me his location. It would not always be accurate but I had some idea when he was moved to Atlanta and then to his permanent location.

      We got the call on a Monday, I think. I had my cell phone at school and had already informed my coworkers that I would be taking a call anytime it came in. That meant, even in the middle of class. We had a plan in action in case I needed help with my students. My entire fifth grade team had been a blessing all through the arrest, the trial, and now prison. They supported me with prayer, words of encouragement and even meals when I needed them. We were a tight group who shared all our secrets with each other. I was so blessed to have had a great group of teachers as my friends during my difficult times. They were more like my sisters than coworkers. They were there for the deaths of my mother, grandmother, mother-in-law, and now stood beside me during my troubles with Matt. I have been truly blessed with God given friends who are never judgmental or condescending.

      The call came from a Federal Prison in Florida. Florida? Really? The closest prison in Florida was at least 350 miles from home. Could it be as far as Miami? After confirmation from Matt we were informed that he had been sent to the Federal Correctional Complex near Ocala, Florida….530 miles from home.

     The facility was actually Coleman Federal Correctional Institution II (FCI), a part of the Federal Correctional Complex (FCC) which is composed of several facilities within the complex. Coleman is a sprawling complex of penitentiary units with five sections: two high-security institutions, a low and medium-security facility and a camp for female inmates.  All institutions are operated by the Federal Bureau of Prisons (BOP), a division of the United States Department of Justice. We would learn that the facility is the flagship facility of the BOP, housing 1170 inmates in just FCI Coleman II alone. It is the largest facility within the BOP with a total inmate population of almost 6600, in other words, a small city in itself.  And my son was about to become a member of the notorious list of inmates who have served time at what I perceived as a modern-day Alcatraz.

      Matt would be assigned to FCI Coleman II, but it was still a federal penitentiary. His dad tried to convince me that FCI Coleman I housed the worse criminals, but he was telling that to a mother.  Anything with a fence, guards, and locked doors means trouble to a mom. According to Matt the only difference in Coleman I and Coleman II was the fact that Coleman I had gangs and gang activity.  All I could think of was the possibilities of what could happen in prison. It would be several weeks before we could visit Matt, but we were well on our way to full indoctrination with just the first phone call.

 

Chapter 16 The Sentencing

 

    During his time at our house, Matt had met numerous times with his attorney. Considering all the complications from the confession, his lawyer had tried desperately to come up with an adequate defense. What they didn’t know was that Matt had given a lot of details that were incorrect. I don’t know if it was intentional, from the subconscious, or maybe an effect of the anesthesia, but many of the details he described would prove to be untrue.

     Matt had told his attorney, Joe, that he had been forced to rob the pharmacies. He tried to convince Joe that there had been a man he owed money to that had come to the house and physically made him rob the pharmacies. Joe had acquired a private detective who had interviewed Matt and recorded his testimony. He started a search but could find nothing. It was determined that Matt had been lying and simply fabricated the story. Matt swore he was telling the truth, but addicts can be so convincing.

     Whether there really was a man or not, there was a stronger case that Matt had acted alone. He had previously worked at another branch of the pharmacy chain and an employee recognized him. He was even picked out of a group of pictures, a sort of lineup.

     Matt had told his attorney that the gun he had used was a BB gun that looked like an actual pistol. He described how he had come home and threw the gun into the woods surrounding the house. Once again, the detective searched the area with a metal detector but found nothing. Even if the gun had been found to be a toy, it still would be armed robbery. We learned from counsel that even a finger held in a pocket in a way to resemble a gun would still be considered a weapon. There was still a threat because the victims could not know if the firearm was real or not. Matt’s attorney thought the fact it was nor real might lessen his sentence some.

     So, Joe and I combed the area for evidence as well. Several days we searched the wooded area in front and in back of the house and even across the street. We held out hope in finding the toy gun, but we found nothing. We had thoroughly searched the house as well.

     There was no one living in the house after the home invasion and shooting, so the house remained vacant while Matt was in the hospital and then recuperating at our house. We kept the house locked but it was situated in a dark, deserted spot on several acres of property. The house could be seen better from the school parking lot than from the major road in front of the house. Within a week, someone had broken into the house and stolen the refrigerator, stove, microwave, and washer and dryer. In fact, they took anything that was able to be pawned or sold for cash. We assumed it was used for drug money.

      After the robbery we had searched every corner of the house searching for anything valuable that might have been overlooked. Several months after the sentencing and before the house was sold, the missing toy BB gun was found lying on the dining room table. No one could explain the strange reappearance of the weapon.  It would not have changed the charges or the conviction. The only purpose I could make for the gun appearing at that time was that the Lord wanted us to find it. Maybe so that we would know Matt had told some truths. I don’t know why but the gun was there that day.

     Matt was facing a stiff sentence but less time than the possible state charges would bring. It looked to be around 10 to 15 years, possibly twice that amount if convicted on two counts. In the federal system, sentencing is determined in months served, so Matt was looking at 120 to 180 months. Sentencing at the federal level is determined by a set of defined criteria, based on such things as prior criminal charges, severity of the crime, things that factor in to the equation. That is left up to the judge and the attorneys, but the process is pretty well spelled out.

     There are very few exceptions to receiving a lower sentence. However, once again, God provided a way for Matt to have a lesser sentence. It involved a possible disclosure that only Matt knew all the details and he agreed to speak to the FBI. Even his attorney had said there was no way it could happen, but by the grace of God it did.  Five years off his sentence!  Another miracle!

     So Matt was given a sentence that required him to serve 90 months. That day in court will be forever seared in my mind. As a mother I was not sure I could face the drama in the courtroom. I had not even been able to get out of the car that day back in January at the crime scene. How could I face seeing my son in this situation?

     Matt entered the courtroom in the orange jumpsuit bound in shackles and handcuffed. It tore at my mother’s heart like a hot branding iron had been placed on my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes but I was able to keep my composure. All around the country people were praying for Matt, the judge, our family, and all those involved with this case.  I felt every prayer at that moment. I remember the peace I had during the sentencing and afterwards…the Peace that passes all understanding. I actually felt as though the Holy Spirit had His arms around me, drying my tears from the inside and keeping me composed and calm.

     Matt’s two brothers were present that day. Joe had asked that they be there to witness some of the consequences for Matt’s behavior and actions. They had been hurt from all the stealing, arguing, and family drama that comes from dealing with an addict in the family. He wanted them to see the high price that Matt had to pay. It would be several years before his younger brother would even talk to Matt because of all the hurt and anger.

     After the judge read his verdict, he motioned for me to come forward. I was allowed to hug my baby for the first time in over 6 months. It felt good just to touch him and know that he was still living and breathing. It was extremely hard for me to breathe that day. I could only imagine what he was going through.

     Jim was also with us that day.  He was a good family friend who had also been Matt’s Youth Director at church. Jim had been faithful to visit Matt with us so it was no surprise that he agreed to go that day, too. Of all people, Jim knew the true heart of Matt from being with him through the years. He had also been through some rough times with Joe and me as we dealt with the frequent teenage problems. He had served in combat duty in Viet Nam, so I guess he thought our problems were minor in the big scheme of things.

      One year, Matt was scheduled to attend a youth retreat in Florida. Something had come up that made Joe and me question letting Matt attend. He had several friends who he had invited and really needed to be there. So, we agreed to let him go if I went along as well. Matt was not happy but we insisted. There was one minor problem: where would I sleep? Bless their sweet hearts, Jim and his wife let me bunk in their room with them. They shared a bed and I had the other one. With 15 or so teenagers there was not much time for sleeping, so all worked out for the good.

      Our minister was also there as the judge read his decision. We all gathered in the hallway after Matt left. Not much was said, just a few thanks for coming, a prayer and a gracious acknowledgement of the power of the almighty in the final terms of the judgement. His attorney was there to witness the lower sentence and now had to be reminded that he had said “no way.” Joe had just witnessed another of the miracles in Matt’s life. With the federal system time can be shortened for good behavior but never less than 85 % of the sentence. Matt was given credit for his time in Cullman, but he still had about seven years to go. Now began the long process of serving the 99 months.

 

Chapter 15 - Cullman County

 

     Matt was taken to the Jefferson County Jail but only for a short time. By the end of the week, he was processed and sent to the correctional facility in Cullman County. We learned that federal prisoners were not housed with the county prisoners. The feds had a contract to house their prisoners waiting trial so Matt was transported by van to the Cullman County Jail.

     The visiting times were different than Jefferson County, so every Wednesday evening Joe and I made our trip up I65 to visit our son. I usually met Joe in Kimberly and left my car so we could ride together. It was only about 45 minutes but the wait was always a surprise.  Sometimes we got right in and sometimes we waited for an hour or so.

    Matt was in Cullman the first Christmas away from home. We were not allowed to give him any gifts but he did ask the warden for one favor. Matt had been smoking when he left but he could not smoke in jail. He had asked the warden if he could have some cigarettes for Christmas. The warden had agreed on one condition: that Matt provide cigarettes for all the prisoners who were incarcerated on Christmas Day. He was asked to provide 2 cigarettes for each prisoner. So, Joe and I went out and bought 1 carton of Basic Menthol and 2 cartons of Basic regular and delivered them to the jail on Christmas Eve.  That was one happy group of prisoners on that smoky Christmas Day!

     We have learned our share of rules and procedures during this journey. One thing for sure: the rules are always different at each facility. We always expected to wait and always needed to have a picture ID, but other details varied at each location. Some places we had to put money in a machine which went to an account for the prisoner. Some of the machines only took money and some would take a credit card. All of the visitation was behind glass. Some had a phone we both talked into and some just had glass with a speaker. There was always a time limit because so many people had someone to visit. There were usually children around waiting to see their fathers and mothers.

     I knew I had entered a different world when I observed some children at Cullman playing Hide and Seek the best they could. They would hide behind chairs, under tables, and beside Coke machines. The teacher in me would focus on their playful antics and I found myself amused at their creativity. No items were allowed in the back with the prisoners, so we usually came in with only our driver’s licenses. The same was true for the children. No books, or toys, or anything for entertainment.

     As I watched the group of three act out their child’s play, I overheard one child say to the other. “OK, now I’ll be the warden!”  Oh, well! When in Rome do as the Romans do… I realized at that point I was totally submerged in a different culture. They were acting out what they knew.  Sad, but true. But that did not make them any less loved by the one true God.

     Little moments like that have changed my feelings about people and families who struggle with issues related to drug addiction. It is a curse inflicted on all families. It knows no boundaries of race, gender, socioeconomics, faith, education. It’s a monster that can raise its ugly head anytime or anyplace. It can rip families apart and make orphans of the innocent. The only thing I can do to help others, besides pray for them, is to reassure them that there is a purpose in their life. That they are part of the big picture, a victim of an unseen battle for each soul that has nothing to do with what we did or did not do. I can encourage them to trust the Lord in each and every circumstance and be dependent on His grace as they face their earthly struggles. I can reassure them of the hope I have found in Jesus Christ. It will not fix the hurt and the anger or pay for the legal battles, but it will provide a peace in knowing that all things work for the good of those who love the Lord. I can tell them what I have been through and what I continue to face on a daily basis. I can share my struggles and my faith.

Chapter 14 - Mental Health Issues

 

     As the court date drew closer, Matt became more anxious. He still insisted he was not going to Prison. I knew the inevitable but what I didn’t realize was that he meant he would do whatever it took to stay out of prison, even if that meant suicide.

     The court allowed Matt to go to a group meeting like Celebrate Recovery, a Christian based 12 step recovery group.  In fact, they actually encouraged it. We tried to go as a family. We would all listen to the speakers and participate in the worship service, but only Joe and I would attend the small group sessions. Matt called them a “trigger”, which meant that would trigger off his desire to use drugs. So, we would let him refrain from attending and go outside and smoke.  That may have been a mistake, because somehow, Matt still had access to drugs.

    One meeting, I recall, we were just about to leave when Matt remembered he had left something in his room. He wouldn’t say what but he ran inside. For some reason, I believe a prompting of the Holy Spirit, Joe followed him into the house. As Joe passed by his bedroom door, he saw Matt “shooting up” before the meeting. All Hell broke loose, but we went on to the meeting. What else could be done? We needed help now more than ever.

     Parents who have been in this situation can relate. So many thoughts run through the brain. If I tell his probation officer, he will certainly go to jail and it would be my fault.  Why doesn’t the drug tests show up positive? Where is he getting the stuff? Am I not watching closely enough? Help me!  Help Matt!  Just Help!

    Joe and I had a special company trip planned the end of September, so now the case was entering nine months. We debated whether or not to go but the brothers volunteered to keep an eye on Matt.  I remember the event well, because Matt was called for a drug test on the Monday we got back.

    Earlier in the week before the trip, I had received a message from the secretary at school to come straight home after dismissal. Matt’s probation officer was at the house. When I got home, I found Justin in the living room talking to Matt. Evidently Matt had called him expressing his fear of going to prison and Justin was very concerned with Matt’s mental state. He, too, was afraid Matt might harm himself. We both talked him through the episode, but Justin was still concerned. Matt agreed to go to the psychiatrist. Justin did not want us to go on the work trip, but he did understand we had a commitment and agreed on having his brothers watch him closely.

     I should have suspected something since Matt’s color came up that week and again on Monday. Prisoners are given a color and must call in each day to check to see if their color is up. If it is their color, they have to come in for a drug test that day.  Matt’s color came up on Thursday before we left, and again on Monday.

      What I did not know was that Justin had talked to Joe. He felt like Matt was at a serious point where he might take his own life. They both agreed he did not need to be left alone during the day while I worked. He might do something drastic. The only thing that could be done was to bring him in to jail so that he could be put on a suicide watch.

       Joe agreed to bring Matt in before work to have a drug test. From there he would be apprehended and taken to the county jail. Neither Matt nor I knew what was about to happen. So, on that late September morning I would say goodbye to my son, not knowing it would be the last time I would hug him until after his sentencing several months later.

 

Chapter 13 - The Feds

 

      At the federal courthouse, Matt was officially charged for the pharmacy robberies. It was now the United States vs James Matthew Hobby. The first thing I did learn is that there were other services offered to a person charged with a federal crime. Matt was given a pre-trial officer who worked on his behalf in securing medical help. He was scheduled with a counselor and also allowed to return home with us, but this time he had to wear an ankle bracelet that tracked his whereabout at any given time. If he ever went out of range, even up the street or to the mailbox, the device would alert his officer. He had a short time to respond before the authorities were called.

     Matt was scheduled for a series of tests and given a court appointed attorney. Things moved much faster in federal court. Matt’s pre-trial probation officer was a really nice guy and Matt formed a close bond with Justin.

      Reality is not a fun when you are the target of a real-life drama that unfolds like a page-turning suspense novel. I thought I would wake up any day and this would be some kind of joke, but unfortunately, I was living this truth. My son had robbed a pharmacy for drugs and was facing a lot of prison time for his actions. I had raised him in the church and tried to be the best parent, but none of that mattered now. It was not my reputation on the line, it was his. He was a grown man, accountable for his own actions. I had done all that I could and I knew that I had.

      When Matt had come out of surgery that awful night in January, I had the strangest peace about the future. In those fifteen years of dealing with a drug addicted teenager, I had tried everything I could to control the situation. I had chased him to strange places, made phone calls, lied to teachers when I knew he should be at school. I had made excuses, taken him to meetings, tried to make him feel guilty, but NOTHING worked. I had finally learned that I could not change someone else, only the way I react to the situation. I had learned to work on me.

      His dad, on the other hand, had learned that he could only argue with me about how to handle things, so he eventually backed down. Sort of the fight and flight syndrome that I talked about earlier. It’s not that I was usurping his authority, it’s just that when I would pray about a situation sometimes, I would have a change of heart. When the incident happened, Joe began to ask himself what he could have done to change things. The answer to that question is nothing. Nothing he could have done would have changed Matt. Matt had to change Matt. My brother once said that Matt would stay clean, when staying clean was easier than staying high.  What words of wisdom he spoke!

         The concept of letting go is hard to grasp for some parents. We somehow feel responsible for the actions of our children. Truth is, our children are living, breathing souls with the same free-will God gives to every human being. They are their own person. Sure, we can lead them and guide them along the way, but they are accountable for their own actions. The only true thing we can do for them is pray for them. I remember a dear friend told me once that she just prayed that Jesus would take her boys “kicking and screaming.” She knew they would fight the Lord the whole way, but she wanted them to know Jesus whatever it took so she asked the Lord to knock them in the head if he had to but just take them!

    I found myself praying even harder in the Hugo Black Federal Courthouse!

Chapter 12 In Court

                                                                    

        I remember vividly the first day in court. I had taken Matt to the courtroom to address the judge and be presented with his charges. We entered the room quietly and sat on the back bench with all the other accused who did not have representation.

        They called case after case before the judge. As we came closer to our time, I was given an open moment to exchange dialog with the bailiff in charge of assigning pro bono lawyers. I briefly explained Matt’s situation. She took one look at his file and said he had some very serious charges. Just at that time an older lawyer walked into the courtroom. The bailiff looked at the man and said, “This guy here is just the man you need.”

       I had prayed that morning for guidance. This was such a new experience and there was no rule book on court behavior. It reminded me of the first time I went with Joe to play golf. I knew nothing about rules or order on the golf course. I walked on pins and needles in order to prevent the embarrassment of being criticized for simply not knowing golf etiquette. Those same feelings surfaced then in the courtroom.

      I was not even sure if I should be talking to the bailiff, but she was kind and pleasant. I told her our dilemma to which she replied, “Honey, you can pay good money and a lot of it to a lawyer, but you will never get a better lawyer than that man right there.”  I knew at that moment God had answered my prayer.

      We met with the newly acquired attorney that day and several time the next few weeks. He also was concerned with the fact that Matt had made a confession. He felt like the best defense Matt could have was to take his case before a jury of his peers. Matt was facing a rather stiff law, called the Alabama Pharmacy Robbery Act, created by the state legislature for the protection of pharmacies and their employees. We would learn that The Alabama Pharmacy Robbery Act would call for Matt, if convicted, to serve a sentence that was longer than my expected lifespan. In other words, his father and I would not live to see his release. This legislation states that any person convicted of armed robbery of a pharmacy shall be required to serve a sentence of 20 years minimum with no parole, a scary thought since Matt was possible facing two charges. He would serve 40 years if convicted.

      Given the serious consequences, his attorney made the decision to go to trial and hope there was not enough evidence to convict. Or maybe even chance a mistrial. Whatever the case, he felt it was a better defense than simply signing a statement.

      Matt had almost finished his time out on bond before the court date. He was scheduled to tell the judge his decision for a trial when, once again, God had different plans. It would take months for me to realize that this was yet another miracle. I was too upset at the change of events at the time to focus on the positive. My whole life had been turned upside down. It was like someone put a blindfold over my face and then said “Walk!”

      I remember that morning so vividly. Matt and I were to meet his lawyer at the court house around 9. Joe had gone on to work that morning and was to meet us there. As always, I was running behind, so I dropped Matt off and went to park the car. He was standing just outside the entrance to the county jail when I last saw him. He wanted a cigarette before he went inside.

      I parked the car and was about to get out when I got a strange phone call on my cell phone. The conversation is pretty much a blur because my mind went blank after I heard Federal Agent…. This could not be happening. We had this all figured out. Why would the Feds step into this situation?  I was terrified. I was alert enough to hear him say meet me at the Hugo Black Federal Courthouse.

      Since Joe was to meet me inside the court house, I continued on to the scheduled place of our meeting. He was there with, of all people, one of the detectives in the case. When I saw the two of them, I broke down. I couldn’t help but cry. This whole incident had been such a shock and now I found myself facing a Federal courthouse and new charges.

      After a few deep breaths, I was able to calm down enough to listen to Joe and the detective. Because a gun had been used in the robbery, Matt was facing federal charges. I felt like I was going to faint. This was all too much for me to comprehend. I remember the detective trying to calm my fears. He assured us that Matt would be better off with the feds than in a state institution. Plus, there was not much hope with the pharmacy act at the state level.

      In retrospect, I know it was all part of God’s plan all along. His time in federal prison would be a long hard journey, but much more bearable than timed served in a state facility.

Chapter 11 - The Wreck

 

     After about a week of recovery at the house, I returned to my work teaching. Matt was able to care for himself and he only cleaned the surgery site once daily. The bullet had entered his shoulder and exited through his back just under his lung. That wound had to be cleaned daily also.

     A second week of staying home was enough time for boredom to set in, so Matt decided to take my old van to the store. His excuse was that he needed cigarettes, but I think he also had other reasons to leave. We would find out later that he was still actively using drugs.

    I was just about to leave school when I got a call from a coworker. “Carol, I am on the interstate just after the Deerfoot exit and there is a red van in the ditch on the other side of the highway. Is Matt at home?”

    My heart sank. I assumed he was at the house but with an addict one can never assume. Within minutes I had enough information to know it was my van and my son. Matt had left around noon on his adventure and on the way back somehow managed to wreck my car just shy of an overpass on the interstate. After seeing the pictures of the automobile, I could not believe that he had once again escaped death. Another miracle!!  A few more feet and the van would have plunged down another 30 feet into the creek below. I am certain he would not have survived that impact.

    He was taken again to UAB hospital. This time I was so angry I refused to visit. I didn’t even check on him. The discharge doctor told him he was one lucky fellow to have survived two serious episodes in as many weeks. At what point does Matt wake up and see that God has a purpose for his life?

     The seat belt had saved him but it had also damaged an artery in his neck. The doctors did some repairs and ordered him to ICU for a few nights of observation. There was a possibility of blood clots forming in that artery. I let his father communicate with Matt but I refused to listen to his story. I knew it would be riddled with lies. Why can he not learn to tell the truth?

    Matt's combined charges for both hospital stays totaled over $250,000. He was indigent and unable to pay. He talked only once with a financial counselor at the hospital, yet his hospital bills were paid for through the kind charity of a generous, anonymous donor. I think we are up to at least 10 miracles by now!

    Matt spent several weeks going to doctors’ appointments. He developed MERSA even though he was on several antibiotics. His physical wounds were beginning to heal but the inevitable heartache from the consequences of his actions were becoming more of a problem each day. His dad and I agreed that we would let him handle his legal issues with a court appointed attorney. We had already spent a great deal of time and money with his prior arrests. This one had the potential of being extremely costly and his dad and I were not wealthy people. We had to rely on the grace of God once again.

      I remember very clearly a word of encouragement I received about Matt when he was dealing with the MERSA. Late one night as I was having my quiet time with the Lord, a thought about his infection came to my mind. I began convincing myself that there might be a chance he would NOT be sent to prison since his staff infection was so contagious. I felt a small sense of relief then a sudden shock back to reality that, yes, he would be going away. Then a peace came over me and I heard a small quiet voice say, “I’m going to protect Matt. You let me worry about the HOW.” I knew I had heard a voice from the Lord.

     So as soon as Matt was released from the surgeon, we appeared before the magistrate ready to face the consequences. God had another miracle in store for us.

Chapter 10 - The Prayer Service

 

    Since Matt was a medical risk and would have to be housed in a medical unit, we asked permission from the courts to keep Matt under house arrest at our residence.  He was released in our custody a week after the surgery. He had not spent time with his dad and me for several years and neither of us knew what the future would be like with an added member in the household.

    Sensing our concern about the living arrangements, a dear friend suggested we have a Prayer Service with our church family. Our church, Faith United Methodist, is small and we have a membership of about 125, with attendance anywhere from 50-80 on a Sunday morning. With little preparation and planning, Polly and our minister, Amelia arranged a service for Friday night at 7:00. We all agreed that corporate prayer was needed and we would pray regardless of the number who could pray with us. Amelia and Polly notified the congregation with a Calling Post message by phone and email for those who had it.

    Joe and I arrived to find some 50 or more members of our church and community ready to take our hands and kneel with us in prayer as we asked God to handle this heartache we were feeling. We asked for guidance and direction from the Holy Spirit and for peace and comfort in the days to come. I was so moved by tenderness and emotions from my fellow Christian friends that I could do nothing but cry the entire time. That body of Christ has prayed unceasingly for Matt and our family and continues to keep all of us in their prayers daily. I thank Jesus Christ for the steadfastness of these people. They have never once made me feel ashamed or embarrassed about my son’s mistake. They are a perfect example of the love of Christ Jesus.

     I consider Matt’s release to us another miracle. His attorney and the law enforcement official all agreed that there would be a very slim chance that Matt would be released to us. After all, he had been accused of a violent crime and these were very serious accusations. And, he had already admitted his guilt. But God had other plans. He came to our house on a Sunday and moved upstairs in the guest room that became his temporary bedroom during his pre-trial period of time.

Chapter 9 - The Detectives

 

      Early the next morning, I went home to get a shower and change clothes. We had been informed by the Sheriff Department that Matt would be arrested. They have compelling evidence that he had been involved in a pharmacy robbery. They had witnesses who claimed to see my mother’s old Ford Taurus at the scene of the crime. I do not know why anyone would take a car like that to a robbery. It might not start and then what? It was missing all the mirrors and looked like a total piece of crap. But I guess it would suffice at a time of desperation.

     I recall having to retrieve the car after it was impounded from the house. I thought then that I should have just left it there at the junkyard where it had been towed. It cost me at least $150, not much more than the value of the automobile. But they were charging me a daily fee for storage and I am a rule follower. So, I paid the fine and brought it home. I was at least able to sell it for $1100 and recoup some of my expenses.

    When I returned to Matt’s hospital room, I was shocked to see two detectives sitting in his room. They had been in his room most of the morning asking questions. In fact, they informed me that My son had already confessed to the robberies. He sure picked a heck of a time to start telling the truth. There was no attorney present and Matt was barely out of recovery, but there was nothing I could do. I asked if he should have a lawyer present and the detectives informed me that he had agreed to answer questions without an attorney. Lord, what do I do now? I did not even know Matt’s story and here he was telling it to detectives without an attorney present. I had seen all kinds of television shows and even bailed Matt out of jail a few times, but even with my limited knowledge I knew not to talk to anyone without proper counsel.

    I stepped outside the room and called Joe. He was furious and told me to get him to stop. When I entered the room to tell the detectives, they informed me that Matt was an adult and able to make his own decisions. Really? Are they kidding? This was a man child who might have robbed a pharmacy with his grandmother’s Taurus, who had been using drugs since 15 and was functioning at that mental level, who agreed to talk without counsel, and most importantly…. had just come out of a major surgery and anesthesia no less than 8 hours ago.

    The detectives could sense my angst with the situation since I kept interrupting and asking my own set of questions. They concluded the questioning shortly after I entered the room. I’m sure they had enough information to send my son to God only knows where for God only knows how long. I took a deep breath, said a prayer, and continued to hide my concerns. I knew the detectives were just doing their job. I knew that they needed to solve a robbery. What I didn’t know was that they would later try to convict Matt for a series of pharmacy robberies in which he was not involved.

      As Matt lay in the hospital recuperating from his injuries, his dad and I wrestled with the situation and the plans for the future. Since Matt would not listen to us, we combed our minds for someone who might be able to reach his inner thoughts, someone he would listen to, someone he would respect. It’s divine the way the Holy Spirit works at times because Joe and I thought of the same person at almost the same time, a minister friend who just happened to be married to Joe’s boss. He was an older gentleman with a calm nature who was extremely knowledgeable about the Bible. Joe agreed to call Doug first thing in the morning.

      At around 9:30 the next day, Joe received a phone call in his office. On the other line was Doug who was telling Joe what a nice visit he had just had with Matt.  Doug said he had a strong urge to visit Matt in the hospital and had followed through with the nudge. Stunned, Joe replied, “Well, Doug that was just your Boss (God) telling you to go to work. I was just about to call and ask you to visit Matt. What a coincidence!”

      Joe explained that he and I had both decided that Doug would be the perfect person to talk to Matt.  To that, Doug replied, “Well, you know, I don’t believe in coincidence.  A coincidence is just a miracle that happens when God doesn’t want to take the credit.” Joe had never heard that expression before and neither had I at that point. Later that weekend I was preparing for a Bible Study I was facilitating by Beth Moore. As I was previewing the DVD for the lesson, Joe entered the room. Just as he did Beth utters the same words, word for word. “A coincidence is just a miracle that happens when God doesn’t want to take the credit. “Her words brought Joe to a standstill.  Doug was right, there is no such thing as a coincidence.  Hearing those words of assurance twice in three day was simply a little “wink” from God. Even in the middle of chaos, God assures us that He is still in control.

Chapter 7- The House ---- Chapter 8 - The Hospital

                                                                   

Chapter seven

The House

   When I arrived at the house, I knew we were facing something big. I had feared that all along. I had hoped that this was a simple break-in. Matt lived in a rather secluded spot just off the highway. The property also backed up to the high school. My heart sank as we pulled into the driveway.

    My first clue was all the flashing blue and red lights. There were police and fire trucks from several municipalities and different locations. Yellow tape surrounded the house and drive.

    I froze. I mean I literally froze. My legs would not move. I was sick to my stomach but not like I was about to throw up. It was more like I was weak. I believe now if I had gotten up, I would have fainted. That kind of sick. I had been dealing with this possibility and now it was happening. All my praying and I was still having to face this! Lord, help me, please!

   Joe got out of the car and went over to talk to the policemen, sheriff deputies, firemen, and plain clothes detectives. This was BIG! I simply sat in the car. I don’t remember if I prayed or cried, I think I simply just sat. Thoughts were going through my mind faster than the speed of light. That, in itself, can cause nausea.

    Matt had told us ways he had gotten money for his drug use and we thought maybe he had been caught stealing. This was much worse. Joe returned to the car with the news. It was drug related but the detectives would not share how at the time because there was an ongoing investigation.  He did tell Joe that Matt was in over his head.

    In over his head? What did that mean? I could not even think of that at that time. I had a son who might be dying from a gunshot wound lying at the trauma unit at UAB. In hindsight, I do think the authorities were more concerned in the drug investigation than the home invasion. No one ever attempted to locate the shooter.

 

 

Chapter Eight

The Hospital

 

     When we arrived at UAB we went immediately into a conference with the surgeon. According to his observation of the entry wound and the exit wound, Matt had been shot at close range by a high-powered weapon. Entry wound? Exit would? I had never thought about a bullet making two holes, but I guess that makes sense. Really, nothing was making sense at the time.

     He explained that the bullet had entered Matt’s shoulder, possible hitting his clavicle, then exiting just below his lung. Matt had also lost quite a bit of blood.  I was no expert but I knew this was serious. What he wanted us to do was to sign to give permission to operate. I asked about our financial obligation and was assured that Matt would be the responsible party since he was a 30-year-old adult male. He also warned us that this was a very serious situation. He would not know the extent of Matt’s injury until he went in for the surgery. There was a possibility that Matt could lose his arm, or worse, he might not make it.

    So there sat Joe and I, pondering and praying for our son’s life. I had long since realized I had no control in the outcome of Matt’s life. I had tried every possible way to control his actions. I had chased him down, traced phone numbers, looked up car tags, kicked him out, bailed him out, prayed with him, and prayed for him. I had finally decided to give my problem with Matt over to the Lord. Only those who have been in extreme situations understand that there comes a point when the physical body can do no more to influence or control another individual’s actions. Hopefully, most people will realize this truth before their conditions become so critical. I was at peace that God was in control. But Joe had not reached that point. He had left much of the consequences up to me because we would argue about how to handle Matt. He felt like I was undermining his decisions but the Holy Spirit would often direct me to a new path. Add my grandmother to the equation and Joe was very disgusted and frustrated with everything relating to Matt and rules.

       After a six-hour surgery, the surgeon met with us to explain the “miracle.” The bullet had entered Matt’s arm at just the right place. A half inch in one direction would have cost him his arm, a half inch in the other direction would have blown his heart apart. RIGHT WHERE IT NEEDED TO BE! I honestly got chills when the doctor told me those words. Or maybe it was a nudge from above to remind me who was in control.

      The doctor was able to save Matt’s arm but the incision was unbelievably difficult to look at.  I don’t remember the number of stitches and staples but his scar runs from the top of his shoulder down past his elbow.

      We waited to see him after recovery. It had been a difficult night for all of us, but Matt had survived.  By the Grace of God, he had made it. I knew at that point God had a specific plan for his life. I just didn’t know how difficult the plan would be for all of the family. Joe and I talked to Matt about telling the truth. We soon found out that he had heeded our advice at the worst possible moment.

PART 2 -The Incident

Chapter Six -----The Phone Call

      Some events, like the birth of a child, impact us so much that they are ingrained in our memory.  We can recall every detail. Most are positive events but sometimes there are negative events that affect our recall for details.

      I had such a life-changing event on January 10, 2010.

     Joe had just returned from the Alabama National Championship Game in Pasadena, California. The game was played on Thursday so his flight brought him back on the following Saturday. At that time, Matt was living in my grandmother’s old house she had moved when she sold her property to the school. My brother and I had inherited Mama’s old house, so Matt was living there rent free. It was better than dealing with the arguments on a daily basis.

       Joe and I had just settled in for the night when the phone rang. Another late-night Phone call, what now? When I answered and said hello, I heard a sweet female voice on the other end speak these words, “Mrs. Hobby, I am a nurse at the UAB trauma unit downtown. We have your son Matt. He has been shot.”

     What? Did I just hear her right? He has been shot, not arrested? I think I asked her if he was okay or even alive. I’m not exactly sure because I was in shock. I do remember her saying he was conscious and wanted to talk to me. I recall his words because they were so bizarre coming from a person who had just been shot. He said, “Mom, I don’t think I got a chance to lock the door to Mama’s house when I left. Please check on it before you come down here.”  Maybe that was God’s way of making me stop at the house before I went to UAB, because otherwise we would have bypassed the house on our normal route. I was not prepared for what I encountered when I drove up.

      Joe and I would find out later that Matt had been a victim of a home invasion. Unknown to us, he had robbed two pharmacies and stolen several thousand dollars in drugs, mostly oxycodone his drug of choice. I suppose word of his robberies and the possibility that he held quite a stash of drugs had gotten out on the street because someone broke into his house the night of January 10, 2010 and approached Matt at point blank range with an AK 47 assault rifle. Matt said the intruder pointed the gun at his head but he grabbed the barrel just as the shot went off. Matt’s hand moved the barrel ever so slightly so that the bullet entered his left shoulder. The doctors speculated that the bullet penetrated his shoulder, hit his clavicle upon entry, ricocheted down and exited out his back below his left lung. It was a miracle that he was not killed or even lost his left arm as a result of the gunshot.  I have lost count of the number of miracles in my son’s life.

 

 

Chapter 5 - Lies and more lies

  

    Regardless of how many times I tried to catch Matt at lying, he always managed to evade getting caught. When he did, somehow, he managed to convince me that I was mistaken or that what I had seen was not really what I had seen. He was a master at manipulation. When I was finally able to read through his schemes, he would manage to get his dad on his side and convince him that it was me, not Matt that was wrong.

      I suspected that he might be skipping school but even if I tried to follow behind him and check in the school parking lot he always managed to be there when I checked. It was almost like he had a sixth sense with the ability to read my plans. I did catch him once which I am certain that the timing was a God thing.

    Matt had driven to school. His younger brother had called me to check him out school because he had a fever. I was on the way to take his brother to the pediatrician in Pinson, when I met Matt in his car pulling on to the main road from a side road. He was riding around in an area nowhere near his high school. I made sure he knew I saw him and this time I had a witness with me.

     It did not matter if I had evidence, once he was confronted, he always put up a fight. The arguments were senseless, because Matt’s line of defense soon became a threat to commit suicide.  I admit there was a feeling of responsibility that came with the threats. Maybe he really would do it just to make me feel bad. After all, he said the most hurtful things to me that I never dreamed he would say, and he had done things I never thought a child of mine would ever do. I had raised him in the Church with a respect for the Lord, but all bets were off now that drugs had entered his body and altered his mind. I didn’t know what he was capable of doing anymore. This was not the sweet, complacent, intelligent child I had rocked to sleep on my shoulder even after his feet would touch the ground as I held him. I thought I had been through the worst part of his addiction, but I would soon find out he was capable of much, much more.

       When he was living at home, Matt would sneak out at night. Once he had taken Joe’s company car some place for who knows what.  We heard activity in the living room, and we got up to see what was happening. Joe confronted Matt about the car. He asked him if he had taken the car anywhere. Of course, Matt said no. Joe warned him of the consequences if he was lying. Matt assured us he was not. Joe then proceeded to go to the car and touch the tail pipe which was hot to the touch. We knew he was lying and even in the face of the truth he still denied it. That is the way with an addict.

     Matt’s actions often had an effect on his relationship with his brothers. I remember one argument with Matt when he threatened to harm himself. My youngest had a very important football game, one that determined the team position in the state playoffs. Brad was the starting center and this game meant a lot to him and his team. Since we could not reason with Matt, Joe and I decided to go on to the game. We had not even made it to halftime when I saw the school resource officer and a paramedic, I knew scanning the crowd. They appeared to be looking specifically for someone. I pointed them out to Joe, but he was too involved in the game at the time. As they continued their scan and moved closer in our direction, I began to have a strong sense of dread. I was getting a knot in my stomach. They stopped in front of us and began their assent to the reserved section where we were seated.  Halfway up our eyes met and I knew there was trouble. Matt had called my grandmother and told her and my mother that he had a knife and he was going to slit his wrists. Afraid of what he might do, they had called the police.

     Matt had run into the woods behind our house. Since the sheriff deputies were unsuccessful in locating him, they came to get Joe and me. I was not only humiliated and embarrassed, I was MAD! How dare Matt interrupt the most important game of Brad’s season and for us to find out in such a public place among friends and acquaintances. Since I was on the City Council and a teacher, most people knew who I was. Now I was having to walk out of the stadium escorted by the authorities. I was so angry and tired of the drama that goes with addiction. I started crying simply because of the frustration. The paramedic suggested that I just stay in the ambulance and wait it out while Joe went to the house.  Bless his heart. I did and felt better after a few minutes of screaming and crying.

       I know there were multiple arguments led to multiple confrontations, but some I remember more vividly than others.  Once Matt wanted to prove a point to me. What we had been arguing about I don’t even remember, just what followed. He could get violent at times, but he never struck me.  This time he had broken a lamp and kicked one of the posts on the steps on the front porch and broken it. In his rage he decided to call 911 to prove a point. I asked him not to because I feared what would happen. He hung up before they answered but they were required to call back. He tried to explain to the dispatcher what had happened by mistake, but the sheriff deputies showed up anyway. They looked around, saw the broken items and arrested Matt for domestic violence. He was taken in right from my living room. I’m sure all the neighbors saw the police cars and Matt leaving in handcuffs.

      Arguing with an addict is like arguing with the devil, DON’T! You won’t win! It is a battle that takes place in the heavenlies. Matt was not the devil, but he was being tormented by drug demons. I know firsthand that the battle is not ours, but sometimes it is difficult being a war casualty. Like it says in Ephesians 6:12,” For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

As a mother I was able to separate his actions from the person, kind of like hating the sin but loving the sinner. But the law was not. Actions produce consequences whether they represent the true self or not. Matt would soon find out just how those actions and consequences would change his life forever.

 

Chapter 4 - The Enablers and The Detectives

   

          Mother      Me            Brad      Mama

  Even though their intentions were noble, my mother and grandmother always seemed to interfere with the plans I had made to handle the situation with Matt. Tough love was hard to implement when your relatives made you feel like a horrible parent for standing firm. I better understand their feelings now that I am a grandparent, but it did not make life any easier at that time.

     I should have expected my grandmother to react the way she did. She loved Matt so much. He was her first great grandson, given to her by her first grandchild…me! She kept Matt as a small toddler when I returned to work three days a week and kept him until I stopped working when I became pregnant with Jeffrey, my second son. Matt was almost 3, so on those days for two years she spoiled Matt as only a great grandmother can.

     She and my mother were always involved in my boys’ lives. If they played ball, they were there. If they had a program at school, they were there. They never missed a life event in any of my boys’ lives. All the principals at the schools knew them. If Mama and Nana needed to get in touch with my boys, they bypassed the authorities and went straight to the source. They could be found knocking on the doors of the lunchroom or walking down the halls at the high school.  One principal tried to explain the policy of contacting students to them at first, but he later resorted to just telling everyone it’s the Hobby grandmothers. My grandmother had sold her home and property to the Jefferson County Board of Education for the sole purpose of building a new high school in Clay, so she felt she still owned it.

      When Matt finished Bradford, we were prepared to send him to yearlong program, but he convinced my grandmother that he could do what he needed by staying at home. He would not follow our rules so he moved in with Mama because she would allow it. I think she really thought she could love him out of addiction, but she only enabled him to continue his bad habits. Her way of handling the situation was to be nosy and ask a lot of questions. When she did not get answers, she and my mother would proceed to follow Matt like two old lady detectives. What made matters worse was that they would report their findings to me.

       Of course, Matt had a reason or excuse for every phone call and every trip to out of the way places. His reactions became violent at times. I have been called names that I never thought my child would even say, much less address directly to his mother. I had some training in staying calm from a teaching experience I had long before the serious trouble started with Matt. I did not know why God had placed me there at that time but years later I realized He was preparing me for what was to come with my own child.

      I was working a leave in first grade when there was a major incident at our school that required intervention from the state department of education.  I was not involved in standardized testing in first grade, but I had a child with some severe emotional problems. My problem was that the administration was so preoccupied with the investigation that they did not have time to concern themselves with a student who would not or could not follow rules. I was on my own. This child would taunt me and the other children with his actions and words. He was acting out in ways I had never seen at the time. When I tried to correct him, he would go into a temper tantrum, often kicking me and screaming. After some inquiries on my own, I discovered that he was being raised by a relative because he had seen his own mother murdered. He was also being abused by another relative. I immediately felt compassion for him. I was able to stay calm in the face of his anger because it was not truly him acting out. It was the stress placed on him as an innocent child that had made him act like a monster.

       When Matt would act out toward me, I would immediately remember what I had found out about my student.  Matt, like that child, was reacting to an outside force. This was not his true nature. His drug use was making him act like a monster.

      Matt could use words that cut to the core. Once when I was talking to him, my grandmother interjected her opinion. Matt immediately said, “What do you know, you’re f---ing ninety?” that hurt my grandmother so much, but she kept quiet. She had a weird way of retaliating her hurts. She would hold back until just the opportune moment, then pounce on the perpetrator. She had a fantastic memory.

       The next day Matt asked in his usual demanding tone if my mother and grandmother would go to the store and get his Mountain Dew and some cigarettes. That was what he existed on most of the time. He had a sense of impatience and asked if they could please hurry. This proved to be just the right moment for my grandmother who responded, “I don’t know, after all, I’m f---ing ninety.”  Score one for Mama!!

      Mother and Mama liked to feel like they were helping, even if they were not. Matt was always having car trouble. He had so many wrecks yet somehow, he still managed to stay on insurance. The first car he wrecked was a small Toyota Joe had purchased to travel in to do his comedy. Matt had managed to con Joe into letting him drive it to school. He flipped it and totaled the car one day coming home from school. No one was hurt, praise the Lord, but Joe was not happy. It was the first of many accidents.

       Because Matt did not maintain his automobiles very well, they were always needing work, an oil change, gas, tires. Once he noticed a low tire on his way out. With no time to fix it, he drove my grandmother’s car and asked Mama, Nana, and me to get his tire fixed. Afraid that the tire would go flat before we got to the service place, we stopped by the BP service station on the way. I was driving his car and my mother was following in her car. I pulled into the air pump at the BP and my mother pulled in the spot alongside his car.

      When I got out and examined the tires, I saw they were nearly threadbare. My mother had already put money in the machine and proceeded to put air in the tire. She was sometimes very bossy and had a one-track mind when she was on a mission.  I warned her about the tires and told her not to fill the tire very full because it might blowout. I had no more gotten the words out of my mouth than the tire exploded with the loudest bang. It sounded like a shotgun going off. People came running out of the BP both from curiosity and to see if we were hurt.

       My grandmother who was sitting in Mothers car, said, “Betty, are you trying to kill me?” Evidently, the valve stem had whizzed right by my grandmother’s ear like a bullet. The Lord was looking after us that day because she and we could have been seriously hurt. 

       To add to the confusion, a man had come over and volunteered to help with changing the now blown tire. Matt’s car had a spare but no jack, so my mother opened her trunk to get hers. When I say it was a mess would be a major understatement. She did not pay for garbage pickup and her trunk was filled with bags that she takes to the dumpster when she buys groceries. There must have been fifty bags in her trunk, besides the usual items she had picked up from her Saturday yard sales. The man was very polite and helped us in our predicament.

      That afternoon at my grandmother’s house, my sister-in-law who taught kindergarten was talking about the gunshot they heard on the playground during recess. The playground was just down the road from the BP.  She said the kids had all ducked down thinking there was a shooter, and this was even before all the mass killings. I smiled and tried to contain my laughter. I knew it was just another normal day for Mama and Nana and I had gotten to be an active participant.

       Mama died in 2006 and Mother passed away two years later in 2008. I am grateful that neither had to experience the Incident with Matt. They had been through so much of my journey with me. Matt was fortunate to have two people that cared for him as much as those two did. As quirky as they were, they loved him with all their hearts.  Matt was still living at her house when Mama passed away. I see now that God had given her the comfort of having someone with her in her last days.  Just before she died, Mama had asked me to take care of “Little Matt” and her little dog, Bugsy. Joe and I adopted Bugsy into our home. We cared for Bugsy until his death and we are still trying to take care of Little Matt.