The only time I used a bondsman to get Matt released was at the Trussville City Jail. I don’t even remember why, but I guess we could not find our tax records. By this point I should have kept them in a safe place or maybe just hung them on my key ring since they were needed so often. This arrest was a very embarrassing one for me. I had taken Matt to Wal Mart with me to do some shopping. He was right with me most of the time but he asked if he could check on one thing in the sporting goods section. I told him to go and hurry because I was just about ready to check out. He disappeared for a short time so I finished up, checked out, and proceeded to wheel my cart to the car. He met me at the door but the minute we stepped outside we were surrounded by Wal Mart security and the Trussville Police. Matt had shoplifted again and taken two air gun cartridges that I would have gladly paid for.
To add to the pain of embarrassment, I
knew the security guard. We had started elementary school together at Clay
Elementary. His face turned as white and mine did in red. I knew Randy did not
want to be there and neither did I. He apologized but it was what it was.
When I got to my car I was crying, but
then I got angry. No, I got MAD! I wanted to scream and hit something, kind of
like Ouiser did at the funeral in Steel Magnolias. I was clinching my fists, grinding my teeth
and shaking, when I felt a hand on my back. One of my precious school moms had
witnessed the entire ordeal. She hugged me, put me in the car, and stayed there
while I had my fit. Bless her heart.
Trussville was a clean jail and I thought
about leaving him there for a while. At least I would know where he was and
that he was safe. I’m not sure of the
safe part anymore since I have two sets of friends who have lost sons in jail.
One died in the Shelby County jail and the other in the Calhoun County
jail. I remember waiting for visitation in
my car at the Trussville jail when I noticed a shadow of someone standing in a
hallway. I could see inside a window made of glass bricks so I could not make
out what or who it was. Within minutes I saw something that looked like a piece
of paper coming through what appeared to be a gap in the glass bricks. A person
appeared from the shrubbery and picked up whatever it was. Leave it to a
prisoner to figure out ways to communicate with the outside world. Most prisoners I have met have plenty of
intelligence, they just choose to use it in the wrong way.
Matt’s arrests were not all drug related. Besides
shoplifting, some were failure to appear and there was the outstanding warrant
that cost me a trip to Tuscaloosa.
Matt had begun working painting houses and
needed his driver’s license that had been suspended, so we made a trip to the
Sheriff’s Office on the Bankhead Highway. That particular day the office was packed
even early in the morning. He had signed in while I parked the car. When I
entered the building one of the officers suggested that we drive to the station
on Skyland Blvd in Tuscaloosa. He had assured us we would not be seen that day
in the Birmingham office. We gathered our things and headed out to I59 and on
to Tuscaloosa, since we had been told that office is rarely busy.
Upon arriving I dropped Matt off as I had
in Birmingham, but the results were not exactly as I had been assured from the Birmingham
officers. When I entered the building thinking this would be a quick trip, I
found Matt handcuffed and sitting behind a desk waiting to be processed. Apparently, he had an outstanding warrant
somewhere and he had been arrested yet again. By now I have lost count, but
this was at least number four. He was transported in a police car all the way
back to Jefferson County.
I was able to gather enough information to
know it involved a case that had not been closed out. Something had not been
completed and the case was still open. I called his attorney on the way home
but soon realized he was finished with his part and did not feel obligated to
help in the least. I needed to find the certificate of completion for the
counseling sessions Matt had attended. More busy work for an already worn-out
mother.
I try to stay positive and look for the
blessings in even the darkest of situations. Other than the cost of gas and the
irritation of having to attend meetings, counselors, and court, Joe and I only
had to pay for one attorney in all the arrests.
Even Matt’s trips to rehab were covered by insurance or charity. Once
Matt became an adult the responsibility fell on him and he had no visible means
of support. At that time, children could stay a dependent on a parent’s
insurance until 26 only if they were still in school. Matt managed to stay
enrolled at Jefferson State and remain on Joe’s company insurance. How he did was
a miracle in itself, but he would enroll, pass a few courses, fail a few
courses, and withdraw before the deadline. We were so blessed that he could
have the medical attention that he needed.
Tracking down the certificate became a
lengthy pursuit since I’m sure much of the information Matt had given me was
incorrect and fabricated. I took him to
different places for different meetings and sometimes he drove himself. We
tried to retrace our steps from our memory but there were just too many events
to sort them all out in any kind of order.
After recounting as much detail as
possible, Matt, his brother Jeff, and I set out on a quest to prove Matt had
completed his steps in counseling. We drove to several places where Matt said
he had been to NA meetings, several churches in not the best sections of town,
to different doctors’ offices, and finally to Baptist Medical Center on
Montclair Road where his psychiatrist’s office was located, we knew for sure.
I remember this trip particularly because I
saw Matt and Jeffrey as they once had been, laughing and smiling brothers who
enjoyed being around each other. All the drama with an addict drains the family
members to the point that it is hard to experience joy. That day we were all three filled with
enjoyment at simply being with each other.
All the stress had taken a toll on my gut
and I would frequently have a bout of irritable bowel syndrome which sometimes produced
gastrointestinal complications. I remember we had just eaten lunch when we
pulled into Baptist Medical Center. I began to feel my stomach rumble and
thought I might have had an accident but I had to go in to get the report. I
parked right out front and left Matt and Jeff in the car. As a precaution,
since I had on white pants, asked the boys to check my bottom when I got out of
the car and bent over. When I did, they both erupted in uncontrollable laughter…
loud, belly rolling laughter. I feared what they were going to say. Neither
could hardly speak, but Jeffrey managed to get out these words: “It looks like
an ink blot test.” Now there really was uncontrollable laughter, even I could
not hold back a snicker. I went in the restroom to check for myself and that is
when I burst out laughing. I wonder what the lady in the next stall thought I
was laughing about so hysterically. If she only knew!
We never located any certificate and Matt
once again was given an opportunity for rehab at another facility. We drove him
to a place called Friends of Alcoholics (FOA) in Jackson, Mississippi. He never
completed his term there. He hated it.
There was no air conditioning, the food was terrible, but it was better
than jail. I remember receiving a call to come get him. He had gotten into a
fight with a guy who pulled a knife on him. The director told me there was
nothing wrong with Matt, he just needed to go home and grow up. It was not his fault,
but the counselor felt it would be best to remove him from the facility for his
own safety.
So, at 3:00 on a Wednesday afternoon, my
sweet grandmother and I headed out on an 8-hour trip to retrieve our strong-willed
man-child. We stopped in Tuscaloosa and picked up Jeffrey who would provide our
entertainment and protection on the trip. We picked up Matt, did a turnaround
in Jackson and headed back. I remember dropping Jeffrey back at his apartment
then gassing up at the Flying J on Skyland Blvd where I fell asleep in the
parking lot. After a short snooze we made it back to Birmingham in the wee
hours on Thursday morning.
Part of the difficulty in finding the
certificate came from the fact that Matt had attended so many different
programs. He had numerous attempts at suicide which led to brief
hospitalizations. I do not think he was or is crazy, it was the drugs. I
remember he was in the psychiatric ward at Baptist where he stayed only
overnight. I think after he sobered up, he realized he didn’t need to be there,
so he convinced the staff. I had investigated having him committed to a state
institution, but it was such a permanent solution. It was not a place for
evaluation. If I signed the papers, he would be there for good…a ward of the
state. I could not do that to my son. I knew he had problems with drugs, but
they were causing his actions. From what I have learned now, I do think his
brain needed to be rewired. The drugs distort so much of an addict’s perception
of reality, that they must reprogram their thoughts to be more positive.
I know I am an enabler and codependent,
but I had just about reached the point that all I could do for Matt was pray
for him. Nothing I did or said had an effect on his behavior. I knew he would
have to make the decisions for himself. He would have to be the one who decided
he wanted to be clean, not his mama, daddy or the court system…. Just Matt. My
brother had said after he told me about the $5000 forgery that Matt would stay
clean when staying clean was easier that being high. Matt had not reached that
point yet.
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